


Camelot Refugees

by Amata42



Series: The Merlin's Spell [1]
Category: Merlin (TV), The Sims (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It of Sorts, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9633212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amata42/pseuds/Amata42
Summary: Emrys casts a spell that he probably shouldn't... and now they aren't even in Albion anymore. But, just maybe, it's going to turn out for the best anyway.After all, everyone deserves a chance for their own happy ending.Currently being updated every Wednesday!!





	1. All About Uther Pendragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emrys casts a spell that he probably shouldn't... and now they aren't even in Albion anymore. But, just maybe, it's going to turn out for the best anyway... but that's jumping ahead to the group of six standing on an empty road, confused and in a completely foreign land...
> 
> To understand how - and why - they ended up there, you have to go back and start with King Uther Pendragon...

To understand why Emrys did what he did, you have to first understand why he - and Morgana - were so afraid. To understand their fear, you have to understand the King, Uther Pendragon.

Uther Pendragon was a warlord, to begin with.

Many men sitting on thrones throughout Albion came to it by way of the sword, so in this Uther was not particularly unique. He was, however, a warlord with a vision of peace - and in that, he was one of very few powerful men at that time.

Uther Pendragon was originally a lord of one of the fiefdoms in the southwest of the kingdom of Camelot. Controlling key lands along the best, shortest, and least mountainous routes to the western seaports had made his lineage prosperous; protecting those routes from brigands and bandits had made his lineage strong. During his youth, Uther had used either warm words or cold steel to expand his father's borders; and, upon his ascent to the lordship, Uther had become the fierce holder of nearly all the western lands from the abundant farm land in Hereford in the south to the village of Stonedown in Landshire to the north. His capacity to spread his holdings eastward was hampered by the expanse of the White Mountains and, at the northern tip of the mountain range, the Valley of Fallen Kings.

detail of the Kingdom of Camelot from "Atlas of the Kingdoms of Albion" by Versaphile   
@ http://archiveofourown.org/works/1037453/chapters/2069264

 

To a point: this would have been the end of Uther's story - as a man could to do worse than live as a rich, mighty lord of a prosperous fiefdom all his days - except for the lovely Ygraine de Bois.

The Princess Ygraine was as lovely as the sun's gentle rays on a wheat field spread out across a summer's day. She was beloved by the people, and sure to make a strong marriage for her father, the current king of Camelot. Her elder brother Tristan led her father's mighty armies while her younger brother Agravaine maintained the kingdom's treasury with wit and finesse. The scions of the house of de Bois were the pride of a prosperous kingdom which had been held by the same family for countless generations.

Alice Patten as Ygraine de Bois (image from BBC Merlin)

 

So when Uther Pendragon - a western vassal with a strong sword arm and a stronger sense of self-importance - approached the throne for Ygraine's hand, it was understood that his suit would be politely entertained for some weeks, but equally politely rejected.

Uther Pendragon was a warlord, to begin with. He did not take the rejection well.

As was his habit, when diplomacy failed it was merely time to put the enemy to the sword. His prosperous fiefdom paid mercenaries well, and Uther had no compunction about conscripting serfs as fodder for the battlefield - in his experience, that was precisely the purpose of a peasant anyway. There were rumors that Uther had also secretly ensured the support of Lord Godwyn the ruler of the small neighboring kingdom of Gawant - but as Uther's conquering of Camelot was so fierce and so swiftly successful, any who might have accused Uther of treason were either already dead or kept their silence. As it was, Gawant was simply the first kingdom among many to recognize Uther's nascent rule.

He took Ygraine de Bois as his Queen, such that the lineage of de Bois would still hold the throne - and the weight of de Bois legitimacy only aided his right to hold the throne. If Ygraine only agreed to marry Uther because swords were placed at the throats of her brothers, there were few among the nobility who would dare whisper about it. Uther Pendragon was a warlord, after all - most vassals of Camelot had become accustom to a certain prosperous lifestyle, and swearing fealty to a new king was a more pleasant prospect than becoming permanently separated from one's extremities.

Anthony Head as Uther Pendragon (BBC Merlin)

 

Uther elevated to nobility his best friend and most trusted swordsman, a man named Gorlois. He was granted lands in the north of Camelot to hold in Uther's name from the stronghold at Idirsholas. Uther's own lands in the western regions were divided up and granted to additional nobles elevated from his most loyal ranks. These noble swordsmen were granted certain special rights in return for the obligation to heed Uther's call for battle - and the first knights of Camelot were created. Those of noble birth from prior to Uther's reign were instructed to send their sons to the throne for fostering with the promise that those who proved worthy would be trained and eventually join the elite knights. And so with both stick and carrot, Uther took throne, wife, and nobility in firm hand.

From the seat of the kingdom at the citadel city of Caerleon, Uther's early years were marked by his vision of peace and prosperity, only marred by one blemish - the Queen Ygraine could not produce an heir.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** It's time for Amata's Footnotes! YAY!!**  
>  for anyone who has not ever experienced life as one of my fanfic betas, there is a time-honored tradition of my footnotes sometimes being even longer than the written ditty that they accompany. But my footnotes are AWESOME (if I do say so myself) - notably because they are in my casual voice and frequently full of random falderol. 
> 
> First of all: this series will eventually be multi-fandom, meaning I'll be including things that I am a fan of from all over the known universe. Works will include: BBC's Merlin (as above), BBC's Sherlock, the Chronicles of Narnia, Jim Henson's Labyrinth, FOX's Lucifer, Howl's Moving Castle (both/neither book and movie), Full Metal Alchemist, Dr Who (specifically 10th Doctor and Rose), various Harry Potter characters, and myself & my wife as the biggest self-inserted Mary Sues ever. 
> 
> **Next: I don't have a beta for this.**  
>  So all mistakes, errors, and typos (etc) are mine. Feel free to bring them to my attention and I will edit when I can. What I write is basically mental accompaniment to a game of the Sims 4 that I have running, because I'm a dork and this is the adult equivalent of playing with dolls. 
> 
> While I'm on the subject of the Sims 4... when I get passed the backstory and start pulling screenshots and/or video from inside the game - **please be aware that I am running a modded version of Sims 4**. At present, I have just about 700 different mods I'm running at any given time (and that number grows any time I need to add to any of the houses or characters for any reason). Unless you also run a modded game, you will not be able to replicate the interior decor, character builds, or basic look of my game. Please don't try - you will severely destroy your game. If you want a list of mods or modding resources, please feel free to ask first before you go and bork your expensive video game. 
> 
> With regard to my Sims 4 mods - yes, I also run adult mods on my game. I'm an adult, and Sims 4 mods are free, easy, and don't have the risk of viruses or spam that comes with internet porn. The AI in the Sims 4 is INCREDIBLY ROBUST. When I'm not directly controlling a sim, those little guys do all kinds of things that I swear I didn't teach them (such as just walking around nude All. The. Time.) To the absolute best of my ability, I will not post in-game pictures or video content that is more than PG-13ish. I am still debating about how smexy this story might get. There will be smutty plot, but right now I think it might all happen "off screen" - but we'll see as the story goes along. I will update the story rating & tags if anything changes. 
> 
> All love and mad respect to Versaphile, who created the original version of the Camelot & Albion maps I have been using for reference. I made some edits of my own, but you can see the originals here: "Atlas of the Kingdoms of Albion" by Versaphile @ [http://archiveofourown.org/works/1037453/chapters/2069264 ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1037453/chapters/2069264)
> 
> I am using my own version of the Arthurian world, however I definitely refer to **Versaphile's atlas** for a LOT of reference points. I differ from the Arthurian world in the BBC's tv show "Merlin" - notably, the kingdom is called Camelot and the city/citadel that is the seat of the kingdom is called Caerleon. It drove me nuts that both the castle/city and the kingdom proper were called "Camelot." Nuts, I tell you. 
> 
> Also, of all the fandoms that I have included in my Sims game (so far) - I am the _absolute **least** versed_ in Arthurian legend. Shocking, I know. I can tell you off the top of my head that a reasonable guess for the Duke of Galma's daughter's name would either be Lydia or Olivia (Narnia, VotDT) - but for anything Arthurian, I have to google the shit out of it and then patch together a narrative constructed by pretty words pulled directly out of the air. Plus, the reason for including the BBC show Merlin here at all is because I feel they make such an utter hash of something begun with amazing potential. In my mind, that show starts "jumping the shark" pretty much right away! It is worth watching, naturally, but is mostly just a shameful waste of a wonderful cast. In video gaming, we call this a "great concept, poor execution." Shame, that.
> 
> Now that I've got most of that out of the way - I will leave you all with this final note: my google is telling me that the correct spelling for falderal is actually "folderol" (although it looks like falderal might be an acceptable variant). I honestly just think that folderol doesn't look correct. Must just be one of those words. 
> 
> requests / suggestions - leave comments! I might listen to 'em ;)


	2. All About Magic in Albion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albion is a magical place.... King Uther normally doesn't think much about that fact - but the Queen can't seem to get pregnant, and the pressure is on.

To a man with no talent for bows, a bow is a useless bit of wood and string. To a man talented with a sword, the presence of archers in a melee is an annoying deviation from the battle plan. To a man like Uther Pendragon - adept in all manner of weapon and combat - magic was the last and most persistent annoyance.

Albion is a land flush with magic.

Among the common folk, magic was a fact of life lived working the land. A poor, simple farmer might find some improvement of his lot in life should a child be born with a bit of the talent for magic - to be fostered out to the nearest tradesman who could make use of the skills. Those with a deft hand for fire to local smithies; those keen on healing to the physicians and to the midwives; those with a bit of power in all sorts were fostered to any taker or merchant or scholar as a dogsbody for a broader sort of education. Most prized were those able to make a bit of green grow, as they were fostered to the nearest nobleman's estate, being taught all manner of useful skills like riding and map reading - eventually travelling the whole fiefdom each year and encouraging the crops with their touch.

Once again, awesome map of the kingdoms of Albion is thanks to Versaphile's lovely Atlas  
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1037453/chapters/2069264

 

As with swords and bows and all manner of combat, the common folk of Albion paid little heed to magic as a weapon. They were not allowed to wield weapons after all, and most warlord kings kept their own bevy of magic-users paid very well. What did it matter if the village was hassled by a warlord with a sword, or a warlord with a sorcerer along - either way taxes were due and between bandits, wild beasts, and hungry babes there was simply no time left over to imagine devoting years of training and study to cultivate magic strong enough to overthrow a disliked overlord.

So most folk with a talent for magic learned only enough to ease the birth of a baby, to protect a field of crop against blight, to lessen the bite of the frost, to keep fires warm, and perhaps to encourage a barkeep to be generous with his ale. A man might know a trick or two to turn a wolf away from his door - or a goodwife might have a knack for sewing a hem that wont rip or unravel with age. The nobility might employ a household mage to add shine to their jewels and guard the arms against rust. The cook in the kitchen probably knew a turn or two that kept maggots from the meat and rats from the grain.

Magic ponies!! Now I feel like I should say "friendship is magic" or something. (image from BBC Merlin)

 

And so Albion was flush with magic - and the folk generally knew enough to always say their spells with a murmur of thanks and a nod of gratitude for the land and sky and water and fire that magic seemed to come from. For top-to-bottom, it was a rough sort of life in Albion of old, and even the richest lord of the land knew that nothing comes easy, and all things have a price.

Even the richest lord of the land - except Uther Pendragon.

Uther was a warlord, after all, and his view of many things was pitched along the length of his sword. As such, magic was a tool. An annoying, persistent tool - but a tool, nonetheless. A man might name his sword and think all manner of kind thoughts about it; but at the end of the day, the man owed no murmur of thanks nor bent his neck in gratitude to his sword. Uther's right hand man, Gorlois, had married a woman who was flush with magical talent. But Uther - in the event that he ever cast much thought toward a woman at all - would hardly have considered more about Vivienne's magic than he would have considered her sewing needles.

In keeping with the customs of the land, Uther employed a powerful sorceress at his court in Caerleon, a dark-haired woman from one of the local, itinerant Druid tribes named Nimueh. She, in point of fact, had been the court sorceress for the previous king and was a close confidant for both Vivienne and Uther's own Queen, Ygraine. Uther had viewed a court sorcerer or sorceress as a strategic necessity both to properly control any magic used to break laws within the kingdom - and as a military consideration needed to defend against the magic employed by enemies without. Indeed, it was something of a relief that Nimueh, Vivienne, and Ygraine were such fast friends - Uther's eyes could more easily slide past a Queen surrounded by her favored Ladies than he could ignore a lone woman demanding his attentions in the council war room.

But the Queen Ygraine could not produce an heir for Uther, and so the Pendragon line could not ensure that the kingdom would remain prosperous or peaceful or guarded against brigands and warlords alike. This was a problem for King Uther. It was a problem that took resources like men and weaponry and gold - as there were constant border skirmishes testing Uther's strength; there was always one noble house or another in the outlying regions who found a reason to feel slighted and tease at the prospect of raising an army. Uther disliked having his rule questioned. He disliked having to spend the treasury to ensure that lesser men fall in line where they ought to be. King Uther would have rather spent his time with his hunting dogs, with his lovely wife, or with his sword in a tournament arena reminding his nobles exactly why they ought to fall in line and leave well enough alone.

And then the Lady Vivienne had died in childbirth - leaving behind a husband lost in grief and a mewling little girl child called Morgana. It was not lost on Ygraine that her husband felt the loss of Gorlois from the court at Caerleon more than he mourned the woman who had actually gone to her deathbed. It was not lost on Ygriane that Uther nearly coveted the infant Morgana, but for her unfortunate gender. And it had not been lost on Ygraine that her brother Tristan had been among the first to die while leading men to battle in the border skirmishes. And so, perhaps the only person who desired an heir more than King Uther was his Queen, Ygraine de Bois...

But the Queen still had not produced an heir, and Uther was becoming annoyed.

In fact, there was only one thing that ever annoyed him more than the current situation - and that was magic. So it was with a fated sort of irony that Queen Ygraine finally turned to Nimueh in her growing desperation.

One night nearly a year to the day that Vivienne had died, when Uther approached Ygraine's bed, she let the shoulder of her chemise fall loose just-so and then, glowing like burnished gold in the firelight, Ygraine took his hand and guided him to her vacant lady-in-waiting's chamber, where he found Nimueh waiting. Together, Ygraine and Nimueh suggested to Uther that magic could ensure the production of the desired child. Why, magic would even guarantee a male child so the firstborn would undeniably be the heir. And Uther, facing two formidable women, eventually agreed that magic was simply the right tool for the job; after all, Uther was not the sort who properly considered magic to be a thing in and of itself. He was not the sort to think of magic in terms of strength or humility, potency or price - it was a tool to be used by the mighty. King Uther was not meek. And he did not ask the price of such a great magical undertaking.

After the agreement was made and the spell, with the usual assistance of the father, was sown within Ygraine's womb, Uther bent to kiss her belly - so full of promise - and above his head Ygraine and Nimueh shared a grim smile.

Michelle Ryan as Nimueh (BBC Merlin)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** It's time for Amata's Footnotes! YAY!!**
> 
> Reminder(s) - This work will eventually be multi-fandom, meaning I'll be including things that I am a fan of from all over the known universe. Also, I don't have a beta for this. So all mistakes, errors, and typos (etc) are mine. 
> 
> Amazing map of Albion created by Versaphile: [http://archiveofourown.org/works/1037453/chapters/2069264 ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1037453/chapters/2069264) . 
> 
> I am using my own version of the Arthurian world, however I definitely refer to Versaphile's atlas for a LOT of reference points. I differ from the BBC's Arthurian world in the tv show "Merlin" - notably, the kingdom is called Camelot and the city/citadel that is the seat of the kingdom is called Caerleon. Also, Emrys is the name of the magic boy, and "the Merlin" is the title that the Druids use for him. 
> 
> I know that Uther (in both this and in BBC's Merlin) is a bit of a dick, and anytime something is wrong it can be summed up by, "and then Uther was an asshole" - but I'm also trying to give him a tiny bit of a nod, in that he was a product of his times. It's not an excuse, just a reason. Still, better to know someone's reasons than to have nothing but the worst of what they do as a way to judge their character.
> 
> Annnnnyyyyway.... the pace will pick up in the next couple chapters, as Uther is going to be a bit of an asshole (like he does), and we're going to (finally) meet actual characters that will be interacting in my Sims4 game. YAY! Still deciding on the best way to share my Sims with y'all - cuz as many a tabletop gamer knows - character creation is half the fun! 
> 
> I think this is all I have for notes today! Stay safe & sane everyone <3


	3. The Price for a Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nimueh, Ygraine, the ghost of Vivienne - and the magic that they conspired a full year to bring forth.

King Uther Pendragon of Camelot did not see the look that passed between Ygraine and Nimueh the night that the spell to conceive an heir was cast upon them - but if he had, he would have likely ignored it, anyway.

Only Nimueh and Ygraine knew the details of the plan they had concocted during that grief-filled year between Vivienne's death and the conception of the crown prince. In the King's disinterest in womanly ways - and in the King's irritation with all things magical and therefore beyond his direct control - the plan was given room to flourish.

Nimueh knew the easy spells to stop a woman's moon blood during times of war or famine; to stop a ill-conceived babe before it quickened; to expel the seed of man who had forced his way. Nimueh knew the trickier spells to turn a babe who was coming feet-first; to strengthen a woman who had been laboring too long; to protect both man and woman from certain diseases and infirmities; to ensure a pleasurable experience; or, should a warlord bring his men to the door, to take the mind of a person away from a painful experience entirely. These spells many women might know, and a Druid or a midwife might be able to provide.

Witches, magic, herbs, and midwifery have a long intertwined history...   
frequently ended by an unfortunate visit to a fireside stake. (image from BBC Merlin)

 

And beyond that, Nimueh knew spells that perhaps a midwife would know but only a Druid would have the strength to cast. Nimueh knew the spells to change the parts of the body from one form to the other; to feel for the single moment between life and death and hold a person at that moment long enough for help to arrive; to stop a woman's moon blood entirely, for the rest of her life; to create life where none had existed before.

It was the last spell that Nimueh had offered the desperate Queen.

In hushed tones, over wintertime needlepoint and pressed wildflowers, Nimueh explained to Ygraine that encouraging a struggling life to grow is a different sort of spell than what it takes to make a seed sprout in the first place. Quietly, muffled behind a spring bouquet of golden wallflowers, Nimueh explained to Ygraine that magic is done in the balance between what is and what is not. During stifled summer walks arm-in-arm in gardens of blooming passiflora, Nimueh explained that spells always have a price and that the cost of magic can be found in the space between the spell and the spell's result, where the balance must be kept.

(Image from Christian Burge Photography, on frostedpetticoatblog.com)

 

After the harvest feast, while waving a lily-white hand to the entourage carrying the babbling baby Morgana back to her motherless home, Ygraine wondered demurely to the court sorceress if such a spell existed that could ensure a man's seed is taken only enough to create a child but that little else from the man's lineage would be used. Nimueh considered the child Morgana, already burdened by the dark looks of her father and with so little of the magical, lively woman who had been her mother and her lifeblood. She considered the Queen who sat enthroned in her father's lands while her older brother reclined in the moldering crypt.

In a reverent whisper while lighting Samhain candles in memory of the dead de Bois king and queen, Nimueh explained to Ygraine that she had finally found the last items needed to create such a spell. Then Nimueh described to Ygraine a vision of a fair haired child shining like the golden sun to deliver the kingdom from a conqueror's grasp and restore the ancient line of kings.

Ygraine dreams of a son strong enough to restore the throne to the de Bois family   
(image from BBC Merlin)

 

Ygraine placed a spray of baby's breath in a vase beside a favorite keepsake of Vivienne's. Gently ghosting her fingers across the top of the blossoms, the Queen agreed to the price and commanded the court sorceress to make the preparations.

For the nine months following that winter's night, Uther Pendragon ignored a great many things that did not have to do with preparations for the heir's arrival or with fiercely protecting the Queen whom he cloistered in her tower. All else was summarily delegated to his council of nobles and a few trusted knights, and then ignored.

Uther even turned a deaf ear to the Queen's wish to see her brother Agravaine during the time of her confinement. As access to the Queen and unborn heir became more and more restricted, Ygraine's entreaties to see her sole surviving relative grew more and more insistent - but Uther would not relent and none of Ygraine's maids or attendants would dare risk his displeasure. Eventually, Uther barred from the tower all but a scant few handmaids, Nimueh, and the midwife to attend to the birth.

The Queen was also not told by anyone - upon pain of death - that at the same time, Agravaine had been sent on a voyage by sea to attend to trade negotiations with Odin's court in the kingdom of Cornwall. And nobody could have told her what only Uther knew - that the party also included a man with instructions to arrange for Agravaine's accidental death the moment news reached them of the successful birth of a healthy male child.

If Uther had not ignored all but his own mind on these matters, perhaps he might have seen what was coming. If the Queen had been allowed visits by her friends and noblewomen - if she had been allowed a visit from her brother Agravaine - perhaps she would have made a mistake and given some clue. Perhaps she would have been overtaken by emotions and attempted to bid her farewells in a manner that would have alerted Uther.

But the Queen was cloistered, for the protection of the heir. And Uther ignored the Queen's pleas.

And so there were no goodbyes or farewells.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** It's time for Amata's Footnotes! YAY!!**  
>  Reminder(s) - This work will eventually be multi-fandom, meaning I'll be including things that I am a fan of from all over the known universe. Also, I don't have a beta for this. So all mistakes, errors, and typos (etc) are mine. 
> 
> One problem that I ended up having with BBC's tv series Merlin was their character progression. Characters all seemed to either have absolutely no narrative arc, and remained one-dimensional caricatures forever - or have a ton of dimension that felt completely rushed through in a single season, or in some cases, the arc of a single plot-line or even a single episode. 
> 
> Anyway, I really wanted to flesh out the bare bones of Uther, Ygraine, and Nimueh's tangled mess that resulted in Arthur's birth. The show touches on it, but you can never quite trust the sources of the information - so the motives and perspectives of the older generation remain frustratingly hidden. All the core components of their narrative are replicated in my version, but with what I think are reasonable emotional and personal reactions to the (unfolding) facts of their lives. True to the original, Uther did try to arrange for the marriage diplomatically first; was denied; and then returned to simply take the kingdom by the sword. It is also accurate that Tristan was summarily "dispatched" - and I can only imagine the emotional turmoil of the woman who has to sit on the throne that should have been her own brother's birthright. 
> 
> If you squint and read between some of these lines, you can imagine a hidden lesbian relationship woven into this narrative. Personally, I envision Ygraine x Vivienne, but I'm not going to say you're making things up if you see Ygraine x Nimueh. It's all made up, after all. 
> 
> Also, just for funsies - here are my hasty marginal notes from the language of flowers as I was writing out the year-of-scheming. I was looking for a way to encode the passage of that year with hints as to Ygraine's emotional process as well as how, exactly, Nimueh was able to connect with her so completely that she arrives at a place willing to give up her life in a treasonous attempt to overthrow her own husband. Uther is an idiotic jerkwad, but he genuinely loves Ygraine & dotes upon her. She might think he's beneath her, but there's a gap between that and "willing to die just to get the last 'screw you'"
> 
> Pressed wildflowers - something natural and untamed is dry and dead  
> Wallflowers - faithfulness in adversity  
> Passiflora - passion flowers: mourning over the death of a loved one  
> Lily - (orange) hatred, passion; (yellow) false, forced gaiety; (white) purity, majesty  
> Baby's Breath - everlasting love, pureness, innocence
> 
> As always, feel free to post questions, critique, and comments.


	4. The Great Purge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things were great in the kingdom of Camelot.... and then Uther lost his flippin' mind.

Words are insufficient to describe the depth of Uther's despair when Ygraine died. For, although she had lived and died doing her duty for the royal line of de Bois, Uther Pendragon truly had been in love with her. He had loved her like he dealt with all things in his life - strongly, fiercely, and utterly without a backward glance. It had simply never occurred to a man so strong and certain of his place in the world that Ygraine would die in childbirth. His devastation would have been complete but for the survival of his infant son.

It was perhaps, then, for the child that Uther turned his anguish to rage and his grief to condemnation.

The first to witness the terrible extent of Uther's turmoil was Nimueh, standing over the baby basket - Ygraine's lifeblood still staining her hands and dress. Wrenching her away from the fretful infant, Uther roared his displeasure and accusations. Why had Nimueh done nothing to save Ygraine? Why had she allowed her Queen - his _wife_ \- to perish? With narrowed eyes, Uther Pendragon demanded that Nimueh return breath to Ygraine's body, else be executed for treason.

Nimueh, exhausted from the dawn's labors and disbelieving that any ruler in Albion could be ignorant of the cost of such extensive spellwork, snapped impatiently at the wild-eyed King that _the price for magic must be paid: a life for a life._

In the small seconds of silence that followed Nimueh's words, Uther grasped that it was somehow the spell to conceive the baby that had demanded the death of the woman who carried the magic all those months.

And in those small seconds of silence, began the time of The Purge.

When a man is just a simple man, his world is small and the impact he can have during the worst of his days is limited in reach; but, when a man is a king, his world is the entire kingdom and all manner of folk and beasts within it, and the impact he has during the worst day of his life is unchecked in scope. The decisions made by King Uther Pendragon during the first full day of his son's life were not the decisions of a calm, rational king. Although his heart was swollen with good, honest feelings of grief for his lost love and protection for his newborn child - his head was overflowing with fear and blame.

Watch out - Uther's gonna burn a witch. (image from BBC merlin)

 

Uther demanded the noble assembly and summarily outlawed all magic from his realm on pain of death. Although such a royal decree was nothing short of ludicrous - akin to banning the air from the sky because one was bothered by an ill breeze - there was little sense that could be spoken within Uther's earshot for the whole of the day.

But days became weeks, months, and then eventually years - and still Uther's thirst for retribution remained unabated.

There was no magic innocent enough to be spared Uther's Great Purge, from the simplest spell to ease a baby's sleep to the charms the knights employed to protect their shields from rust and disrepair. Yet neither was a magic found to be foul enough to answer Uther's calls for justice in the name of his wife - for even in Nimueh, who had used magic to escape beyond Camelot's borders - there had not been preternaturally evil intent.

All manner of magical creatures were captured and killed. And the magic folk simply disappeared; children no longer saw naiads in the streams and lakes, no dryads in the groves. No pucks or pixies, brownies or bowtruckles. Dreams of unicorns and dragons were replaced with ponies and wild boars.

King Uther ordered the citadel guards to search the capital city, both high born and low, for evidence of magic or for any who may be in league with Nimueh. Caerleon was embroiled for months on end with disrupted business, sudden inspections, confiscations and arrests. Nobody entirely knew what was going on - or why - and rumors of traitors and betrayal spread like wildfire. With no other word from the King to reassure the people, fear and distrust spread, too.

As it happens during times like these, the common folk were those who suffered most. It was not immediately obvious, but the children fostered out to tradesmen, towns, and noble estates had been sending a bit of coin back to their families. And so hard times fell upon the poor farms and villages of Camelot. Local magic users stopped performing spells; crops were less hardy, babies harder to deliver safely, sometimes the meat went rancid because the smoke house fire went out and the wood was too damp from rain to relight it. People went missing - arrested or simply gone overnight without a note or explanation.

It seemed that every tavern sheltered at least one man who had "heard from his cousin about a village" - and the story was always grim and fascinating and full of drama and ended with a public execution.

After the first decade, Uther's firm stance against magic became a self-fulfilling law. A few children or neighbors of folk who had been caught and burned (or some beheaded) during the early years of the Purge learned nothing but bitterness and fear for ten years - eventually returning back upon Uther the pain they had felt. In response, the king merely ordered his garrisons and outposts to redouble their efforts against "the magical menace."

Julian Rhind-Tutt as Edwin Muirden - a boy who watched his parents burn during   
the Great Purge. He was horribly scarred when he tried to rescue them from   
Uther's fire. He is not pleased with Camelot's king. (image from BBC Merlin)

 

In the twelfth year of the laws against magic, rumors of a nefarious sorcerer in the north saw the king order a compliment of men led by Sir Gorlois to the Northern Plains to investigate. The nefarious sorcerer was the twenty year old headstrong, angry son of two parents he - as a child - had watched burned for casting the magic that healed a dangerous wound he had taken as an apprentice to a smithy. Like all efforts against an inexperienced but driven enemy, it was a long and bloody campaign - and one that Sir Gorlois did not return from. In honor of his great friendship with the loyal knight, King Uther named Morgana a ward of the royal household; the petulant thirteen year old girl in mourning was moved into the family wing of the citadel in Caerleon.

Yet, once the worst of The Purge began to fade, as the years edged toward the second decade under the new law, the common folk cautiously sidled a bit back into their ways, anything to ease the burden and lift the spirits now and then. After all, Albion was a land flush with magic and no king was great enough to make it not so simply by decreeing it. True, a great number of magic tricks and spells had been burnt up and forgotten during the worst of the Purge; villagers took to whispering spells in secret whenever possible; and nobody fostered magical children out for training anymore. Still, in the far flung villages, away from red-cloaked patrols and Knights of Camelot and unbeknownst to Uther, magic quietly grew back into the land and water and sky and fire.

Albion has unicorns. That's how magical this land is - its natural inhabitants include   
unicorns and dragons. Stop killing the unicorns, Uther. (image from BBC Merlin)

 

But in larger towns, those that hosted garrisons of red-cloaked guardsmen, and in the city of Caerleon that hosted the great citadel and the heart of the kingdom itself, there was no abatement. Uther, in his grief, had formed an unbreakable chain between protecting his kingdom and extinguishing all magic from Camelot. Nothing could slake the king's desire for retribution in Ygraine's name.

A Camelot shaken by the effects of the Purge was the kingdom that Arthur was born into; his childhood spent being called away from windows looking out to public executions and witch burnings. Arthur's boyhood was restricted to the citadel at Caerleon, and his time as a youth afforded travel only to towns with adequate protections - with garrisons. And so Arthur came to his adulthood with only Uther's guidance on the subject of magic.

See? Another day, another witch to burn... Stop it, Uther!! (image from BBC Merlin)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** It's time for Amata's Footnotes! YAY!!**  
>  Reminder(s) - This work will eventually be multi-fandom, meaning I'll be including things that I am a fan of from all over the known universe. Also, I don't have a beta for this. So all mistakes, errors, and typos (etc) are mine.
> 
>  
> 
> **About the Druids of Albion**
> 
>  
> 
> Most kings and warlords in Albion dealt with the Druids by acknowledging their existence, granting free passage, and then ignoring them as often as possible. 
> 
> The trouble with the Druids was that - as a people - they tended toward magic more than not. As people of magic, to quarrel with a tribe of Druids was to potentially kick a rabbit warren and discover a brooding badger instead of a bunny. It was infinitely easier to give the Druids what they wished and then to stay out of their business - especially since what the Druids wished was merely to be marked in the registrar's ledger with itinerant allowances, and to remain naught but neutral pacifists unencumbered by the warring of kings. 
> 
> Even the most rough and brutish warlord needed merchants willing to deal, entertainers willing to distract unruly men, and the occasional traveler with a dab hand at healing. A passing Druid tribe could quite reliably provide all three, plus a willing woman or two beside. A king could do worse than allow the Druids safe passage and rights to act as traveling merchants and itinerant workers. No permanent buildings needed, no oaths of fealty required - the Druids carried their own shelters with them, built temporary lean-tos from the bits they found in the woods and fields, and had an unfathomable aversion to fighting with others. 
> 
> For any trouble within or without, the Druids either settled their affairs by heeding the tribe's elder - or by deferring to an individual called "the Merlin." As far as the nobles, royals, warlords and common folk of Albion could tell, the title was fluid, knew no age nor gender, and was bestowed seemingly unanimously to the Druid designated to speak for and to all other Druids. Whatever criteria was used to establish who was "the Merlin" at any given time was otherwise unknown to non-Druids; however, there clearly was some sort of criteria because when questioned, any given Druid in all of Albion knew without hesitation who the current Merlin was, even if the Merlin had recently been switched. 
> 
> As curious and confusing as this seemed, most kings and warlords in Albion simply acknowledged the Merlin's authority when it came to the Druids, granted tribes free passage, and then returned to ignoring the finer details as much as possible. 
> 
> Some Druid tribes were sociable. They moved about with the weather - aiding the sick in the winter times and partaking in festivals and market fairs in the summer. These Druid tribes might show up near a village around harvest and lend their aid in return for news, goods, or maybe a bit of coin. A farmer might make arrangements with such a tribe to foster a child for a year, training the child's hand at a bit of magic and teaching the child to read and write - a rare and highly valued talent among the common folk. 
> 
> Some Druid tribes were solitary. They moved mysteriously throughout Albion, their reasons and purposes kept to themselves. They would arrive and depart as quietly as a fine mist; unconcerned by the local children who might make a game of going to espy the Druid camp. Local villagers would see these Druids quietly attending to their animals near the tree line abutting the fields, or the goodwives would greet them as they gathered water from the public well. Solitary tribes would return greetings freely enough, but seldom lingered for gossip or trade. 
> 
> Court sorcerers and sorceresses were strongest when they were fosterlings of Druid tribes, or even a Druid themselves, content - for whatever unknown Druid reason - to take on a king's employ and remain stationary. Such Druids were valued for their magical talents but also seen as inviting a fair bit of trouble - as even a Druid acting as a court sorcerer would simply turn and abandon the throne should Whoever-the-current-Merlin said so. 
> 
> Most kings and warlords in Albion acknowledged all of this, and then got on with the business of ignoring it as often as possible. 
> 
> And when Uther lost his flippin' mind, he forgot to ignore the Druids. Unfortunately it was the Druids that paid the price for Uther's new regard. For some reason, when Uther sent wave after wave of patrols to raze the Druid camps in the forested lands throughout his kingdom - the Merlin was nowhere to be seen.


	5. the Trouble with Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur grows up, Emrys comes to Camelot, Gwen takes care of everything, Morgana has bad dreams, and away we goooooo...

For all that Uther insisted that his son be taught that magic was a cruel, twisted weapon only used by the depraved and honorless - Uther also insisted that Arthur be taught in all other matters by only the best tutors. The young lord was taught letters and languages by Geoffrey of Monmouth, himself; he was tutored in etiquette and diplomacy by masters of the arts from across Albion and even one elderly Roman man named Varro. As a true nobleman's son, Arthur endured dance, music, and poetry - and later bemoaned every moment with a cohort of attendant fosterlings around his age.

Of combat and swordplay, Uther insisted that Arthur serve the same time as any noble child sent to Caerleon to foster. Uther, guided either by hubris or innovation, decreed that Arthur was born the son of a noble landowner, not a king. As a child, Arthur had sat at his father's knee and heard tales of Lord Uther Pendragon who had been prosperous and worthy, and taken the right to be called King by sword and skill.

At seven years of age, Uther stood the child on his own feet and declared that Arthur must likewise earn the right to be called the Prince. With a stern push toward Sir Kay and the clipped order, " _do not disappoint me_ " - Arthur was set to mucking stables, learning tack, cleaning clothing, and polishing armor with the rest of the youngest pages. He gained endurance and agility while running messages for the citadel's knights; he gained a sense of civility and comradery from sharing a punishing workload with the other lads. As a boy, he picked up his first wooden practice sword and took to combat like breathing. As a teen, Arthur served Caerleon as a squire, and took to riding, hawking, and hunting like he had been born on the back of a horse. At twenty-one, Arthur earned his own knighthood. King Uther was _not_ disappointed, and began preparations to - _finally_ , in Arthur's opinion - recognize the young man as Crown Prince of Camelot.

Bradley James as Arthur Pendragon (image from BBC Merlin)

 

Meritocracy was not particularly new - after all, a warlord is made king by merit of his skill with a sword. Yet, by merely recognizing Arthur as heir-presumptive at birth, and demanding that Arthur ascend to his crown-princehood by standing out in all aspects among a field of his peerage - Uther ultimately shaped a son that he would never be able to fully understand. If Uther Pendragon's vision of peace was based on wealth in resources built by strength of sword, Arthur Pendragon's vision of peace was based on wealth in all matters built by the efforts of equals. It was a difference that only a lad raised as Arthur was raised could envision.

In the final years of his knighthood, Arthur met Emrys.

It was the sort of unlikely meeting that might have caused an instant unshakable dislike, but instead began the slow forging of an honest friendship. Arthur had never interacted with someone so brashly unafraid to speak his mind directly to the face of the son of King Uther Pendragon. Emrys, for his part, had simply not known who Arthur was when they first crossed paths. In Arthur's world, everyone knew him on sight; he had never genuinely been just another lad, even among the pages or squires. In fact, his meeting with Emrys was the first inspiration for Arthur's later penchant for frequent "hunting trips" which always seemed to innocently end with anonymous forays into the towns and villages throughout the kingdom.

Arthur and Emrys meet for the first time (image from BBC Merlin)

 

As for Emrys, he was merely a young man from a farming village on his way to meet with an old family friend. He had a more than usual gift for magic and a mother who remembered the old ways of fostering out such children. Both Emrys and his mother would have been more than happy to remain simple farmers, but when Emrys began to cause accidental bursts of magic when he sneezed, his mother said enough was enough. With few other options, Emrys was sent to seek a living (and, hopefully, a bit of magical training) from the old physician who had once helped the boy's own father escape Caerleon during the Purge.

Neither Arthur nor Emrys quite knew what to do when it happened that Emrys saved the prince's life from the ill-timed vengeance of a sorceress who had lost a son to Uther's laws against magic. King Uther, however, was quite pleased to reward Emrys with a position in the royal household - and gave him over to Arthur as a manservant. Arthur, knowing little else except his own path to knighthood, immediately began the process of catching Emrys up by having the bewildered lad fill the demands of both a page and squire's work. Emrys, hopelessly ignorant of the responsibilities of a valet let alone a page or squire, quickly made a particular friend of the Lady Morgana's handmaid - an amicable town girl named Gwen - who was happy enough to take the beleaguered farm boy under her wing.

Lady Morgana and Gwen.   
Because if we left it to the boys, shit would never get done.   
(Angel Coulby as Gwen; Katie McGrath as Morgana; BBC Merlin)

 

The trouble was, no matter what Arthur, Morgana, Gwen or Emrys intended, magic seemed to follow them everywhere. As if life in Uther's citadel was not stressful enough - Arthur was constantly beset with valiant knights who turned out to be scoundrels using magic to cheat in tournaments; a plague in the lower townsfolk that threatens Gwen's father and brother turned out to be a foul magical creature lodged in the city cisterns; a physician come to heal Morgana's persistent night terrors turned out to be both a charlatan and an embittered sorcerer trying to make trouble. In the end, however, Emrys considered it a fair trade-off for, as he wrote to his mother - he might be exhausted between the work and the hassles, but at least the constant usage had finally stopped his magic from any further accidental outbursts.

Hey Gwen, why am I the only one here with a big, stupid hat?....   
Is this hazing?... You guys are hazing me, aren't you?...   
thanks. Really, just... Thanks. (BBC Merlin)

 

In nearly the blink of an eye, a year and a half had passed since meeting Arthur; Emrys and Gwen stood along the wall of the Great Hall preparing to serve master and mistress in the feast to come. Arthur in the shining plate armor and crimson cloak of a Knight of Camelot knelt before Uther's proud gaze as he pledged life and limb to the service and protect of the kingdom and all its people.

"Now being of age and proven first among all Knights of Camelot," Uther declared reaching to where the citadel steward carefully balanced a studded golden circlet on a pillow, "from henceforth, you shall be Crown Prince of Camelot."

Under the cheering of the assembled knights and nobles, Gwen grinned sideways at Emrys and chuckled, "How does it feel to be servant to the Crown Prince of Camelot?"

"Washing his royal socks will be even more of a privilege," came the reply with a snort and an expressive roll of the eyes.

"Oh, you're proud of him, really. Even though you complain about him constantly. There! I can see it in your face," Gwen laughed teasingly.

"Of course I'm proud!" Merlin finally admitted as they took their cue to move behind the head table for dinner service, "those socks are _very_ clean!"

Life serving Arthur-the-Prince did not differ much from life serving Arthur-the-knight. Emrys continued attending the horses, cleaning the armor, and shadowing Arthur on the practice fields. Arthur continued throwing goblets at his manservant's head to test his reflexes and dragging the both of them off in plain clothes to various villages and towns whenever possible. Emrys grew deft at dodging thrown objects and continued his ongoing efforts to mouth off at Arthur whenever conceivably possible. As time went by, Emrys saw that Morgana and Arthur both appeared to chafe under Uther's intolerant attitude toward magic, and Gwen was too sweet and kind-hearted to consider harming anyone for a trait she considered little different than the color of a person's skin or hair. So although there was an unending trouble _with_ magic while living in Caerleon, Emrys quickly felt that - at least among his new found friends - there was not really any trouble _being_ magic.

Colin Morgan as Emrys, the Merlin (image from BBC Merlin)

 

And, inevitably, someone found out about Emrys' abilities - although surprisingly, it was neither Prince Arthur, Lady Morgana, nor Gwen. It was a young swordsman from the northern plains named Lancelot. This time the trouble was a wild griffin harrying the villages north of Caerleon; and, although Arthur personally led the sortie against the beast, the griffin required a magical weapon to be killed. In the end, Emrys provided the magic, Lancelot provided the weapon and felled the griffin - but by a bit of circumstance ended up banished from the region anyway. Gwen, watching Lancelot ride away from Caerleon gave a bit of a longing sigh; silently beside her, Emrys echoed the feeling - realizing for the first time just how good it had been to have a few precious days with a friend who shared his secret. He made up his mind then and there to find the right time to admit the truth to Gwen.

So, naturally, it was the Lady Morgana who found out first among their circle.

Trouble found them again in the form of a young Druid boy, who had been separated from his fellows when guards spotted them risking the lower town markets for supplies. In the panicked attempt to flee, the boy was injured and lost - he found himself cornered in one of the citadel's outer courtyards; it was there that Emrys found him, his magic sending out waves of distress. Emrys took pity on the wounded boy and their attempts to evade the searching guard led them crashing blindly into the Lady Morgana's rooms. After only a second to assess the situation, Morgana hid both Emrys and the small Druid while deftly turning away the guard from her chambers.

"You know, for a moment there," Emrys hesitantly began, "I thought you might hand us over to the guards."

With a slight narrowing of her eyes, Morgana flicked her hair testily over her shoulder. "I'm glad you have so much faith in me, Emrys," she stated testily, accustomed to being cosseted by Uther and the knights.

Fumbling to regain the Lady's goodwill, Emrys explained, "No, sorry, um, I meant, only. You're the King's ward. You're taking a huge risk helping the boy."

Glancing at where the young Druid lay sleeping with bandaged wounds, Morgana's eyes softened. "I wouldn't see an innocent child executed," she swore. "What harm has he ever done anyone?"

Unable to stop himself from pushing the point, Emrys answered her rhetorical question: "Uther believes he has magic, and that makes him guilty."

Instantly Morgana bristled and her demeanor darkened - "well, Uther's wrong," she stated stoutly.

"You believe that?" Merlin gasped, surprised at her openness.

"What if magic isn't something you choose? What if it chooses you?" Morgana demanded, obviously thinking of her growing suspicions about the source of her ongoing night terrors: warped and confused visions that clarified as they came true the next day. Snapping quickly out of her own musings, Morgana bristled in defensiveness. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing!" Emrys jumped a bit backward from the Lady, thrown by how the exchange had picked up pace and passion.

"Well why are you helping him?" Morgana advanced as Emrys withdrew.

And then, without making an actual decision about it, the words were falling out of his mouth. The hot-headed defensive "because I have magic, too!" followed by a wide-eyed gulp and a "because, I mean, he has magic, and I agree with you!" stammered as if Morgana would doubt she heard what he said the first time.

They stared at each other across a stunned silence before Morgana gave a suspiciously maternal cry and lunged forward to grab Emrys into the most alarming hug he had ever received. Pushing him backward again, so she could peer intently into his eyes, Morgana whispered hoarsely,

"You?"

"Yeah," Emrys couldn't help but let his eyes dart around the room until coming to rest uncomfortably on the tips of the Lady's embroidered slippers. "Yeah, um, me. But -" he rushed on suddenly earnest, "- I've never done anyone harm. I'd never hurt you - or Arthur - or Gwen - or anyone, I swear!"

"Of course not," Morgana scoffed, releasing his shoulders with a laugh, "Emrys, you couldn't hurt a fly even if you tried! I've seen you trip yourself while walking down the hall."

"It was only that once," Emrys mumbled embarrassed, but gladdened by her laughter.

And the two of them might have continued talking of illegal magic like old friends discussing the weather if Gwen had not burst into the room to warn Morgana that her ladies-in-waiting were approaching to discuss their attire for dinner; with an expressive roll of Lady Morgana's eyes, the three of them set about to making sure the Druid boy was better hidden before the servants had to return to their duties.

Lady Morgana has no patience for idiots. Also, everyone is an idiot.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * It's time for Amata's Footnotes! YAY!! 
> 
> Reminder(s) - This work will eventually be multi-fandom, meaning I'll be including things that I am a fan of from all over the known universe. Also, I don't have a beta for this. So all mistakes, errors, and typos (etc) are mine. 
> 
> I really wanted to say something about squires using sackcloth and sand to play piggy in the middle to clean chainmail... But I just couldn't figure a good place to do it. So here it is in the footnotes. 
> 
> Also, Marcus Terentius Varro (116 BC – 27 BC) was an ancient Roman scholar and writer. He is sometimes called Varro Reatinus. Technically was alive during the time of Roman Britain, but including him as a name drop Master of Etiquette is anachronistic. Arthurian stuff is definitely supposed to be waaayyyy later than Roman Britain. I know, but somehow just didn't particularly care. sorry not sorry ;) 
> 
> Also! A reader asked the other day, so here is the List Of "Merlin" Episodes!!  
> The following list of BBC's "Merlin" episodes can be watched (in this order) for all the canon that this story takes as a given. Some episodes have provisos which I will note. 
> 
> The Dragon's Call (season 1, episode 1)*  
> Valiant (s1, e2)  
> The Mark of Nimueh (s1, e3)  
> The Poisoned Chalice (s1, e4)  
> Lancelot (s1, e5)  
> A Remedy to Cure All Ills (s1, e6)  
> The Gates of Avalon (s1, e7)  
> The Beginning of the End (s1, e8)*  
> The Last Dragonlord (s2, e13)*  
> The Labyrinth of Gedref (s1, e11)  
> Lancelot & Guinevere (s2, e4)*  
> Gwaine (s3, e4)  
> The Moment of Truth (s1, e10)*
> 
> This week's chapter already showed the canon divergence I use in "The Beginning of the End" (season 1, episode 8) - namely, instead of being an idiot and lying through his teeth at every turn, my Emrys character has a moment of trust with Morgana and they establish a bit of a "we both have secret magic" connection. Wheeee! 
> 
> Next week (and following chapters) will drop some additional points of divergence in the rest of the episodes marked with a (*). **Just in case, once more for the people in the back - starting next week chapters will contain major spoilers &/or plot divergence for the above episodes. Especially the episodes marked with a star.**
> 
> Now go watch Merlin and eat chocolate!


	6. All About Secrets and Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a dragon in this one.... and then Gwen gets kidnapped, and then Gwen gets married.... oh, and we meet Gwaine.

After the child was successfully smuggled out of Caerleon - by Arthur no less - and returned to his people, trouble came next in the form of two Sidhe in disguise trying to steal Arthur's soul. And then after that, trouble came to Caerleon with a great dragon investigating the source of the powerful magic he had been sensing from his far-off hiding place in the mountains of Asgorath. The dragon, by the name of Kilgharrah, admitted he had hoped that the magic was due to the death of King Uther and the repeal of the law that had seen all the rest of his kind killed during the Purge.

  
Emrys tries to meet with Kilgharrah in secret to learn awesome magic ....  
but they get discovered, because Kilgharrah is a GREAT HONKIN' DRAGON!!!

 

Unfortunately the dragon was seen by a farmer who ran terrified to alert the King of a monster lurking in the forest. Uther managed to capture the dragon, and when Emrys subsequently freed the creature hoping for his swift escape back into hiding - Kilgharrah instead turned about enraged and began a nightly attack on the citadel.

It was a terrible time for the Prince, the Lady, and their two servants.

When Emrys brokenly explained to Lady Morgana that he had been the one to free the dragon, she quietly admitted that she had been sneaking through the citadel that night for the exact same purpose - and it was only a twist of fate that Emrys had gotten to the dragon's chains before she had. Their mutual solace was broken by the sound of a tray clattering in the antechamber - as Gwen placed a horrified hand to her mouth, standing aghast among the dropped clutter of Morgana's midday meal. Aside for a hasty explanation of their magical secrets and their heart-felt pleas for Gwen to keep silent, there had not been any more time for discussion - as the wounded required aid and the fortifications needed rebuilding before nightfall.

Shortly after that, Arthur and Emrys left Caerleon to search for the last dragonlord to handle the embittered creature. In the end, however, it was Emrys who faced the dragon - showing mercy by commanding him back to hiding rather than killing him outright. Haltingly, Emrys choked out his story to Lady Morgana and Gwen later in secret.

"I was terrified I would be useless when I faced the Great Dragon…" he whispered hoarsely, "but I had inherited the powers of the dragonlord."

"How?" Morgana breathed, wide-eyed at her exhausted magical confidant.

"The dragonlord's gift is passed from… from father to son…" Emrys explained, fighting back tears, "… when the father… dies."

At that admission, the last bit of hesitance from Gwen crumbled from her compassionate heart. "Oh, Emrys." she crooned, stumbling forward and gathering him into her embrace and wrapping him up in a steady stream of comforting murmurs.

After some length, Gwen eventually shifted and sighed a bit. She found both Morgana and Emrys linen squares to wipe their faces and busied herself stoking up the fire. Eventually she seemed to come to a decision, placed her hands on her hips and turned to face Emrys.  
  
"But no more secrets, alright?" she stated firmly. "I don't care about the magic - no, really, I don't. I helped with that Druid boy, didn't I? And, m'lady, since you started sneaking around to learn magic spells with Emrys, you are finally sleeping well at night for the first time since the day you arrived at this castle and I was given to your care. And you - Emrys! - somehow I am guessing that the dragon was not the first trouble you have used your magic to save us from. But - " and here Gwen almost gave a small stamp with her foot, "but I won't be left out of things just because I haven't got any talent for magic like you two do. I do have a talent for listening to my friends."

Gwen moved swiftly in between Morgana's chair and the bench that Emrys were sitting on. Taking one in each hand, her voice softened, "Get it through your stubborn heads that you are not alone. I want to be there for you - for you both," she squeezed a bit on Emrys' hand at that. "I might not be strong or powerful or a knight like Arthur or a Lady like Morgana - but I am your friend, not just any old handmaid. You can trust me, and I will always be there to help."  
  


* * *

  

For a few weeks, the three of them shared a particularly sunny time - enjoying the warm inner glow of a friendship reaffirmed. But, like clockwork, trouble struck again soon after when Lady Morgana and Gwen had ridden out to visit Gorloris' grave for the afternoon. When they had not returned before dusk as expected, the worst was feared and search parties lit out the direction they had gone. The Lady Morgana was found - pale and shaking, but determinedly clutching a sword. It had been completely not-magical, utterly ordinary, surprisingly mundane brigands who waylaid her retinue hoping to demand a ransom. 

Gwen had sacrificed herself so that Morgana could escape.

After ensuring that Arthur planned to sneak away from the citadel that night to rescue Gwen, Morgana hurried directly in the direction of the old physician's quarters, specifically, the small adjoining room that Emrys occupied. As she expected, she did not make it far before she encountered Emrys sneaking away from that direction, a light bedroll and small pair of panniers slung over a shoulder.

"Emrys," Morgana smiled, mindful to keep her voice lowered, "be safe."

As he nodded grimly and kept his hurried pace to move past the lady, she reached out suddenly to grip his upper arm. "And maybe - Emrys, maybe you should tell Arthur. If it would help bring all of you back without harm, I mean."

Emrys jumped a little at her sudden movement and stiffened slightly at her entreaty. "Morgana…" his throat stuck and he coughed a little to clear it. "We'll bring her back, I swear. And I'll tell him, too. If I can find the right time."

Morgana's shoulders dropped a little bit, but she released his arm and nodded anyway. "That's what you always say." she said half to herself as Emrys pulled away. He gave her a pained smile over his shoulder while hurrying down the darkened corridor to catch up with Arthur waiting at the inner courtyard.

They rode through the night, stopping only twice - once for Emrys to sleep for one candle length, once for Arthur to do the same - otherwise, they both alternated napping in the saddle while the other took the lead. Not that either really ever felt over tired, but they both knew that impossible odds faced them - one knight and one sort-of-squire, alone - once they reached the brigands. Their ride was long enough that Emrys even began to consider Lady Morgana's parting words. He briefly began a conversation by asking Prince Arthur why he was riding out against such odds for a servant like Gwen. Arthur had given Emrys a funny look and began a forceful oration about the worth of every person in the kingdom - especially the servants - and The Right Thing To Do. There were some particularly lively words regarding the uselessness of certain older nobles, as well as the general dependency of an entitled few upon the daily efforts of the larger, hard-working but utterly destitute people of the land. By the time Emrys was defensively arguing against the perception of the common folk as poor idiots to be pitied, they were washing Gaia berries off their faces (scent camouflage when they passed through the tunnels of Andor) and facing the trail head from the mountains into the Vale of Denaria.

"Come on, Emrys." Arthur eventually said with a push against his companion's shoulder, "we've still got a long trek ahead. Oh, and Emrys…. If you dare tell anyone about what I've said, I promise I will make your life a living hell."

Not one to allow the Crown Prince the last work, Emrys grinned back, "You mean, more than you already do?"

As it turned out, their odds were slightly better than expected - as their old friend Lancelot had also been mixed up among the captives of the bandit gang.   
  


  
Emrys and Arthur get some help rescuing Gwen from Lancelot  
(portrayed by Santiago Cabrera, BBC Merlin)

 

He and Gwen had been attempting to save themselves when joined by Arthur and Emrys - after that, it only took a bit of a brawl, a touch of luck, and a slight bit of magic to break free of their captors. The four of them did not stop for rest until they made camp for the night under the cover of the mountains' forests.

"I'm surprised you would undertake such a rescue mission…" Lancelot began hesitantly, "… with just the two of you."

"My father would not risk the lives of his knights for a servant," Arthur said gruffly. Knowing he disagreed with his own father was one thing, but having to admit it out loud always seemed to tighten his throat in a most inconvenient manner.

"And yet," Lancelot smiled, "you disobeyed him and came here anyway."

Feeling that he was either going to endure uncomfortable praise or be forced to launch into another lecture about the worth and dignity of the common man - Arthur switched tactics in hopes that they would all get to the important business of eating and sleeping sooner.

"Truth is," he said dismissively, in his best aggrieved-brother voice, "I only came because Morgana begged me."

Technically, Lancelot was still banished from the region of Camelot around Caerleon, so he stayed with them only as they crossed Andor. Once they could see the village of Greenswood in the valley below them, Lancelot announced that they would have to part ways the next dawn - he to return to banishment, and they to ride into Greenswood and then on to Caerleon beyond. Arthur and Emrys politely turned their backs for a bit, overlooking the valley studiously to give Lancelot and Gwen a moment in peace. Since the rescue, it had become painfully apparent that absence had indeed made their hearts grow fonder. But even when the young men turned back toward their camp, Lancelot and Gwen were loath to pull away from each other.

  
Gwen and Lancelot

  
"Arthur -" Lancelot began, "that is, Prince Arthur. We were hoping perhaps you would honor us…"

"We'd like to be married, sire." Gwen said breathlessly while clutching Lancelot's hands. "Even if just in secret. Even if we have to be apart for now." She turned her gaze back to Lancelot's face then, and seemed fixed on his eyes and reddening cheeks.

"Ah." Arthur said dumbly. "Married."

"Oh Gwen!" Emrys broke into a wide grin. "And Lance! Of course!"

"I've never actually -" Arthur began haltingly, but Gwen made an airy gesture with her hand and proclaimed, "It doesn't matter. Just say what seems right, and we'll make do."

"One moment," Emrys broke in quickly, and pushed Lancelot closer to Arthur while pulling Gwen back toward the campfire. Arthur, distracted by his attempts to recall the words used at the weddings of nobles he'd been forced to attend, was the only one who did not see the brief flash of golden eyes as Emrys pretended to shuffle in his gear.

When Gwen turned around her borrowed blue dress from Morgana had been cleaned and repaired a bit, and she held a few sprays of bishop's lace and sprigs of lavender. Emrys tucked her arm in his as he escorted her back toward Lancelot - something clutched in his opposite hand.

"Blessings and merry met." Arthur began, with a self-conscious hitch in his voice. "Gentle lords and ladies, their bans having been published-" at this Gwen giggled a little for how seriously Arthur was trying to repeat the wedding ceremony of the nobles, "- we are gathered here today to join the fair Lady Guinevere and the noble future-knight Sir Lancelot."

"Oh, hang it all -" Arthur suddenly interrupted, "Gwen, I can't marry you! I've killed a man!"

"Sire," Lancelot said with some quick deliberation, "I think, since you are the Crown Prince, and have only killed in defense of your kingdom - we can make an exception for you."

"Okay, okay," Arthur threw up his hands, "who brings this Lady to be wed and will attest to her, um, purity" Arthur's voice had dwindled once again as he choked out the end of the bishop's usual lines.

"I do!" Emrys laughed heartily at the prince's embarrassment.

"And who stands for this knight, should he be unable to protect and provide for this lady?"

"I'll do that too!" Emrys grinned as he jumped a fraction over to the right and placed a hand on Lancelot's shoulder. With his other hand, he reached forward and winking, passed to Lancelot whatever object he had been holding.

Now resigned to his task, and resolutely ignoring the antics of his manservant -slash- squire, Arthur plowed forward, "And, Sir, art thou here this day in pledged troth of thy own free will?"

"Aye, my Lord" came Lancelot's firm reply.

"And, Lady, art thou here this day in pledged troth of thy own free will?"

"Aye, my Lord!" smiled Gwen.

"There being no object to this marriage, let us continue," and with that, Arthur drew his sword. "Swear you now, before the gods and those assembled, to cleave to each other as husband and wife for all the days of your lives."

Placing their hands lightly to the blade just by the crossguard, both looked solemnly at Arthur and stated "I swear." And then Arthur seemed to fumble for what to say or do next, but Lancelot smoothly pulled Gwen's hand away from the sword and took it in his hand. He held up his other hand, and displayed two delicate bands of silver.

"My Lady, Guinevere - with this ring, I thee wed," he murmured while placing the daintier band upon her finger. Tears welled up in Gwen's eyes as she darted a glance at Emrys, who tried to look utterly innocent while broadly smiling.

"My Lord, Lancelot - with this ring, I thee wed," she said joyfully while taking up the other ring and Lancelot's hands.

Clearing his throat, Arthur continued the ceremony, "Thou has sworn upon the Sword, exchanged rings, and been bound together by your pledge. May what is done before the gods be not undone by any man. By the power vested in me by, um, the throne of Camelot - I bid thee make merry and be thee wed."

And if the fire blazed a little higher, and the breeze tasted a little sweeter that evening, nobody really noticed as busy as they were laughing and singing and eating what they could. In the morning, Emrys gave both Gwen and Lancelot simple silver chains - and they hung their rings around their necks before parting ways. Lancelot to protect the ring (and his hand) from damage during combat - and Gwen to protect their secret marriage from risky questions, should the king find out that Lancelot had been back in Camelot.   
  


* * *

 

It was within a mere matter of weeks that Arthur and Emrys were in trouble again - and making a new friend of a roguish young man named Gwaine. He, too, wore a ring around his neck and when Emrys wondered about the seeming proliferation of beringed-necklaces in the kingdom, Gwaine treated Emrys to a somewhat revealing story about his father who perished and the family he had left behind. Despite the somber nature of the admission, the friendship between Emrys and Gwaine was fast and easy. Emrys enjoyed the liveliness of having Gwaine about the place - but despite saving the life of the Crown Prince more than once - Gwaine ended up banished, too. 

  
Gwaine gets banished, too, because OF COURSE HE DOES.   
(portrayed by Eoin Macken, BBC Merlin)

 

As Gwen and Emrys escorted Gwaine to the town's main gate, Emrys sighed a bit and asked, "Where will you go?"

Gwaine gazed forward but swaggered a little so his shoulder casually bumped into Emrys. "I was thinking Mercia."

Gwen tittered and joked about the cheap ale; but Emrys gave a worried frown and said, "Mercia? It's dangerous." Gwen gave Emrys a sidelong look, handed off her springs of lavender to Gwaine, and took Emrys' hand consolingly. At the gate, Emrys tried one last time - "You could tell the King who you really are and he'd grant you a pardon. You could be a knight. Like your father." But they both knew that Gwaine would never serve under a man like Uther.

"You and Arthur," Emrys said thickly, "you fought well together."

At that, Gwaine turned his unbroken gaze from the meeting of the road with the horizon and looked back at Emrys.

"Then maybe one day we will again," was all he could give. Then he shouldered his pack and turned again to the road away from Caerleon.

Gwen waited for a bit while Emrys tried to watch Gwaine dwindle into the tiniest speck, but eventually she reached up to give his hair a tousle.

"I liked him, too," she commented with a friendly smile. Then she tucked Emrys' arm in hers as she escorted him back toward the citadel.

"But I think he would have distressed my -" she coughed a tiny bit - "Lancelot."

Emrys imagined the two very different almost-knights sharing tankards at the Rising Sun, and couldn't help but laugh his whole way back to Arthur's never-ending list of chores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** It's time for Amata's Footnotes! YAY!!**  
>  Reminder(s) - This work will eventually be multi-fandom, meaning I'll be including things that I am a fan of from all over the known universe. Also, I don't have a beta for this. So all mistakes, errors, and typos (etc) are mine.
> 
> The following list of BBC's "Merlin" episodes can be watched for all the canon that this story takes as a given. Some episodes have provisos which I will note.
> 
> Season 1, episodes 1 thru 8, and 11  
> * In my version, the great dragon was not chained underneath Camelot for 20 years. because, reasons. 20 years ago, when Uther tricks & betrays the dragon lords & dragons, Kilgharrah and Balinor barely make it out of Caerleon alive. They fly away until they get to the border of the kingdom, and then split up to better hide. Balinor hides in Ealdor, as in canon; Kilgharrah goes into hiding elsewhere.  
> * In episode 8, Emrys trusts Morgana with his secret & they start sneaking around to do magic together, yay!
> 
> Season 2, episode 13: The Last Dragonlord  
> * can actually be included more-or-less "as is" despite my Kilgharrah having a slightly different backstory than canon
> 
> Season 2, episode 4: Lancelot & Guinevere  
> * I think it's kinda ridiculous that Gwen and Lance spend an episode swearing their True Love for each other, and Lance just walks away from it in the face of what could be no more than the passing fancy of a bored nobleman. Nobles tiddled with the household maids All. The. Time. - and what, Lance is like, "oh, she's caught his eye. Well, guess that's all for me and my True Love." I know we're supposed to be okay with this because we secretly know that Arthur and Guinevere are destined to be some great, legendary King and Queen for all the ages - but even in canon, that's not how it ends up. So the hell to that noise.  
> * In my version, Arthur's motivation for riding after Gwen is because it's The Right Thing To Do, plain and simple.  
> * Also, Lance and Gwen get secretly married before parting ways. 
> 
> Season 3, episode 4: Gwaine  
> * can be included basically "as is" only without any moronic jealous!Arthur jokes when Gwaine says goodbye to Gwen at the end
> 
> Season 1, episode 10: The Moment of Truth  
> * the major point of canon divergence. The episode actually happens basically as it does in canon, but for a few changed lines of dialogue here and there. Emrys is going to react to the event much differently, however. 
> 
>  
> 
> Next week is going to be full of angst and feels. And Spoilers. **Massive Spoilers for The Moment of Truth.** Seriously, if for some crazy reason, you haven't watched season 1, episode 10 - please be sure to watch that episode *before* reading Chapter 7.
> 
> Also, next week: we're really going to start going off the rails.


	7. The Moment of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'll do it, Morgana. I promise," he said. "I'll find the time to tell Arthur somehow. This week."  
> But he didn't tell Arthur about their magic that week.

Yet in between the friendships and the troubles, the laughter and the unending work - Emrys never could find a "right moment" to bring Arthur into the final circle of friendship. The circle of those who knew about the magic living right under Uther's nose. Under a pretense of studying for his work assisting the court physician, Emrys would find ancient books about magic and magical creatures to smuggle to Lady Morgana's rooms and they would steal bits of his free time to study the books together. Gwen helped cover for the activities because, true to her assessment, the practice of simple magic spells helped Morgana focus her powers productively - leading to fewer and fewer overwhelming visions and outbursts of magic during her sleep.

Still, Lady Morgana often made casual remarks urging Emrys to place his trust in Arthur, too.

  
"Tell Arthur about the magic, Emrys. It's for the best, really!" 

 

"I know now who I really am, Emrys!" she was arguing one evening, "It isn't something to be scared of. Maybe even one day people will come to see magic as a force for good!"

"One day, maybe- " Emrys said defensively, "but not now. Not with Uther's laws still in place."

"Forget Uther," Morgana pressed, "you saw how Arthur helped with the Druid boy! And remember what you told me about the final test in the Labyrinth of Gedref - Arthur was willing to sacrifice his life to save yours! How could he do _that_ but not be willing to keep our secret safe?"

"I wish I had never told you about that," Emrys muttered as he glowered at Morgana. "If you are so keen on Arthur knowing the truth - why don't _you_ go tell him, then?"

The Lady Morgana seemed to fade a little bit at that; her shoulders bowed slightly and she looked away from Emrys with a faint flush on her cheeks.

"I... I tried, once - when I was younger." She sighed a little bit and clenched her hands in her lap. "When I was first brought to Caerleon. I didn't know anyone, and there really wasn't any proper place for me. It was just after my father…" she swallowed and was silent for a moment, "… Uther didn't really know what to do with me. But then again, neither had my father - he taught me swordplay and tactics when I should have been learning needlepoint and singing."

"Ha! I've heard from Arthur about how wild you were," Emrys grinned and leaned forward, forgetting that he was supposed to be sulking. "The younger knights swear that you beat him in a bout once or twice."

"I have!" Morgana asserted. "Not that Arthur will ever admit to it! Back then, there were only the pages and squires our age. Uther didn't realize he ought to have brought young Ladies to court to attend me until years later when a visiting Queen made a passing remark."

"Oo," Emrys laughed out loud, "I bet you hated her for that!"

"Yes, I did!" agreed Morgana, "but before all that, it was only me and Arthur, and Arthur's lads. I was alone. And frightened. And I wanted so badly for the others to like me, and let me play with them. I did everything I could to keep up with them - no matter what they did - and somehow I always ended up getting stuck mucking out the stables by myself, every time."

She shifted restlessly and looked both fierce at the memory of her childhood anger, but also saddened by her adult understanding of her loneliness. "That was when my nightmares really started to cause trouble. When they started to be not just nightmares but, you know-" and the Lady made an airy sort of gesture toward her temple with her hand, "- I didn't know what was happening to me. There were times I would be too scared to even leave my room. I would see things in my sleep at night, and wake up sobbing while my candles flared or my mirrors broke. Only Gwen was unafraid - she had been assigned as my chambermaid, you know - and she would come and crawl in bed with me, just as you please, no cares about proper place or decorum. I loved her for it, even then. Especially then. Gwen would hold my hand or hug me, just like I thought a sister would have done."

Morgana smiled warmly at the memory, and shrugged helplessly.

"I think that's why I eventually went to Arthur. I had started to think of him a bit as a brother. An incredibly idiotic and rude younger brother. I remember it like yesterday - Gwen had put my hair in two plaits with those deep blue ribbons, and was so nervous that I couldn't eat any breakfast. I pushed my way into Arthur's rooms with my jaw set and told him, right where he sat polishing a sword."

"I can't believe he ever polished a sword," Emrys interrupted; "Are you sure we're talking about the same Arthur?"

"Funny, Emrys. No, really. I told him about my dreams. And about how things would happen when I got upset. I said to him: 'You're the only person I've told about my dreams. I know I can trust you, Arthur. ' And then I said to him: 'It was _me_. I broke the window pane, just by looking at it. It was me. It was magic.' Arthur just sat there with the sword across his knee like a big, dumb idiot."

"Did he ever say anything, at all?" Emrys whispered.

"He said that I could easily solve my little problem, if I wasn't such an ill-tempered crybaby."

"Of course he did, that arrogant clotpole!" Emrys exclaimed, defensive on Morgana's behalf.

"He is only a little more than a year younger than me, you know," Morgana agreed, flushing a little with the remembered anger, "I told him that he was the crybaby, and then… and then I punched him."

"No!" Emrys gasped, laughing easily at the image of a younger Morgana and Arthur wrestling on the floor like common children would.

"Yes. I did." Morgana admitted ruefully, "Right on his stupid, perfect cheek. They had to call Uther from a council meeting before they managed to pull us apart."

Together both young adults stifled their laughter a bit, trying to remain unheard in their secret meeting of magic users, but unable to fully contain themselves at the scene Morgana described. Eventually, however, a more somber mood returned as they both remembered why they were discussing Arthur in the first place.

"Please, Emrys," Morgana eventually whispered, "I just… I don't want to see Arthur look at me like that again."

"Look at you like what?" Emrys asked, confused.

"Like I am a brainless child. Like I've said something stupid… Like he pities me."

Emrys swallowed hard then, and hesitantly touched Lady Morgana's arm.

"I'll do it, Morgana. I promise," he said. "I'll find the time to tell Arthur somehow. This week."

 

But he didn't tell Arthur about their magic that week.

 

Instead, the next day, Emrys was collecting water from the well in the lower town and met his mother - exhausted from the journey to Caerleon, and badly bruised. Afterward - after they had saved Ealdor from the ruffians - after they had burned Will's dead body and scattered the ashes - Emrys could think of nothing but all the times he could have, _he should have_ , told Arthur.

  
The trip back to Ealdor does not end well... 

 

Emrys woke up in the morning and washed his face thinking of Will and telling Arthur. Emrys ate a sticky bun for breakfast - Will's favorite - and thought that he could have told Arthur when they were on the road heading toward the village.

Emrys polished armor and thought about seeing Will's easy grin again for the first time in years,  and how he could have told Arthur before the villagers had gathered. Emrys mucked the stables and remembered Will munching on apples while avoiding work, and thought about how he ought to have told Arthur the first moment Will questioned him about it. Emrys dressed Arthur in his hauberk for practice and remembered Will saying "Friends don't lord it over one another." Emrys offered Arthur his sword and gauntlets and remembered with embarrassment shouting at Will, "I trust Arthur with my life" and Will retorting "So he knows your secret, then?"

Emrys brought the supper tray up from the kitchens while telling Will, "You were right," and "I was so busy trying to convince you to trust Arthur but I never trusted him myself," and "I could have told Arthur that very night when he asked why I left, and you would still be alive today."

Emrys fluffed Arthur's pillows while thinking about sitting on a log with Will. In his mind, he and Will grin at each other. Emrys' hands move automatically, * _fluff_ * * _fluff_ * * _fluff_ * and Will says, "Why did you leave?"

And Emrys replies, "It wasn't what I wanted. My mother was worried. I just kept getting… stronger… and we didn't know what else to do."

And Will grins, and nudges Emrys with his knee, and says, "You always had my offer. I still think you just needed to let off some … excess energy."

And Emrys blushes embarrassingly red, because maybe _sometimes_ he thought about Will like that, but mostly they were just rowdy brothers too big for the small village they grew up in.

"You'd be able to defeat Kanen on your own, wouldn't you?" Will asks next.

"I'm not sure. Maybe." Emrys says out loud, but inside he thinks, _Yes._ Yes.

"Well, so? What's stopping you?" Will brashly declares. "So what if Arthur finds out?"

And Emrys folded back the bedlinens and thought, _Arthur. Arthur. Arthur._

 __  
... Emrys and William talk about it...  
(Joe Dempsie as Will, BBC Merlin)

 

Emrys ate dinner in the servant's hall because the physician was out delivering a baby that night. He ate soup and smiled as Gwen talked animatedly about something. Inside, he was grabbing Will's hand, standing up from the log, and going immediately in search of Arthur. So what if Arthur finds out? If Arthur had known, then Emrys and all of his magic would have been part of the plan. If Arthur had found out, Emrys would have taken care of Kanen and his men from the start. If Arthur finds out, Will lives.

After dinner, Emrys returned to his chores for the physician, who was training him a bit in the healing arts as a cover for keeping the secret sorcerer-in-training close by. And in Will's house in Ealdor, Will looks up at Emrys and says, "You could end this. If you used your magic, then no one else would have to die."

Dumbly, Emrys replies, "You know I can't."

And Will retorts angrily, "Can't or won't? I'm not the one abandoning these people, Em. You are."

And Emrys walks back to his mother's house in a daze. He sits down next to Arthur and says, "William's father was killed fighting for King Cenred, so he doesn't trust any royalty to have good intentions."

Arthur sharpens his sword and looks disquiet. "I'm treating these men like soldiers, but they're not. Will was right." _Will was right. Will was right. Will was right._ Arthur turns and pins Emrys with his piercing stare. "You need to tell them all to leave the village before Kanen returns."

"No," Emrys says, "we're going to stay. We're going to fight, and we're going to win."

"The odds are too great," Arthur argues, "How can it be done?"

"Magic," Emrys says. "I have magic, Arthur. And here in Ealdor it isn't illegal to use it. So I'm going to use it to save us all. Because _Will was right_."

  
Will was right.

As Emrys slept that night, he saw Will's face struggling to understand, struggling not to feel hurt and abandoned, struggling not to be second-to-Arthur. Emrys dreamt of Will dying on his mother's table while over and over Will's voice says, "Are you telling me you'd rather keep your magic a secret for Arthur's sake than use it to protect your friends and family?"

And Emrys woke up every morning reaching for Will. Answering Will, "no."

Then he washed his face and began again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ It's time for Amata's Footnotes! YAY!! ~  
> This story is Part One of a multi-fandom series; also, I don't have a beta for this. So all mistakes are mine (sorry!). The following list of BBC's "Merlin" episodes can be watched for all the canon that this story takes as a given. Some episodes have provisos which I note below:
> 
>  **Season 1, episodes 1 thru 8, and 11**  
>  * In my version, the great dragon was NOT chained underneath Camelot for 20 years. because, reasons. 20 years ago, when Uther tricks & betrays the dragon lords & dragons, Kilgharrah and Balinor barely make it out of Caerleon alive. They fly away until they get to the border of the kingdom, and then split up to better hide. Balinor hides in Ealdor, as in canon; Kilgharrah goes into hiding elsewhere.  
> * In episode 8, Emrys trusts Morgana with his secret & they start sneaking around to do magic together, yay!
> 
>  **Season 2, episode 4: Lancelot & Guinevere**  
> * I think it's kinda ridiculous that Gwen and Lance spend an episode swearing their True Love for each other, and Lance just walks away from it in the face of what could be no more than the passing fancy of a bored nobleman. Nobles tiddled with the household maids All. The. Time. - and what, Lance is like, "oh, she's caught his eye. Well, guess that's all for me and my True Love." I know we're supposed to be okay with this because we secretly know that Arthur and Guinevere are destined to be some great, legendary King and Queen for all the ages - but even in canon, that's not how it ends up. So the hell to that noise.  
> * In my version, Arthur's motivation for riding after Gwen is because it's The Right Thing To Do, plain and simple.  
> * Also, Lance and Gwen get secretly married before parting ways at the end of this episode.
> 
>  **Season 2, episode 13: The Last Dragonlord**  
>  * can actually be included more-or-less "as is" despite my Kilgharrah having a slightly different backstory than canon
> 
>  **Season 3, episode 4: Gwaine**  
>  * can be included basically "as is" only without any moronic jealous!Arthur jokes when Gwaine says goodbye to Gwen at the end
> 
>  **Season 1, episode 10: The Moment of Truth**  
>  * the major point of canon divergence. The episode actually happens basically as it does in canon, but for a few changed lines of dialogue here and there. The effect of the death at the end of the episode is the motivation that causes the canon divergence.


	8. The Merlin's Spell

It took three weeks of searching before Emrys found the spell.

Three weeks of Will crying, "Look out!" and Arthur buckling Emrys' bracer and saying, "If you've got something to say, now's the time to say it."

Three weeks of Will saying, "Yeah, I'm a sorcerer. What are you gonna do? Kill me?" and Arthur hesitating only slightly before saying, "No. No, of course not."

Three weeks of Will gasping, blood-flecked bubbles forming at his mouth; saying, "Emrys, Em, I'm scared."

And then Emrys found the spell to alter time and fix mistakes. At least, that's the way the translation made it sound. Spell crafting was temperamental at best, and Emrys' spells worked best when he left off with the formal bits and just silently thought about what he wanted to have happen. But this was too big, too vast, and too important to simply go with his gut and wish for the best. No, for this, Emrys needed a spell to trust, a for-real, formal spell with words and instructions and diagrams to go with it.

This spell was old. Very old. Great-Dragon-old. It might have actually been written in draconic because the words kept flickering and going out of focus, as if the dragonlord part of him had to translate it into the language of magic, and then the magic part of him had to translate it into common sense as Emrys slowly read the spell over and over.

It promised to offer "second chances" for all individuals pulled by the spell. Pulled - Emrys didn't know what that meant exactly - but the spell said _pulled_ rather than people targeted by, or people casting, or people cast upon. The spell said _pulled_ and did not specify who or how the pulling would be done. Emrys was simply to fix the regretful event firmly in his mind, and then speak the words of the spell to the winds. Whatever that meant. But the spell promised that the event would be undone, and the individuals pulled by the spell would have a second chance free from encumbrances. In his mind, Emrys took to calling it the "Do-Over Spell." 

Emrys forced himself to study the spell for two more weeks to ensure he knew it by heart. One month and one week, Will was gone - burnt and gone to ashes - and Emrys somehow knew that he was only going to have once chance to get this spell right.

"He was a close friend." Arthur had said, trying to be sympathetic.

"You know how dangerous magic can be. You shouldn't have kept this from me, Emrys" Arthur's words had been colored by the sting of having been left out.

"I won't this time, Arthur." Emrys murmured to his empty room while gathering up the ancient scroll and his spellbook. He packed them carefully into a knapsack with the wooden dragon carved by his father, and a tattered corner of Will's father's tabard - the tabard he had been wearing when he took the crossbow bolt in Arthur's stead.

He thought about his promise to Lady Morgana and how many times he put off bringing Arthur into the secret. He thought about Morgana's face in the firelight, describing her childhood loneliness and the feeling of being rejected, being left out. He thought about Gwen's reaction to discovering the secret - less fear of the magic itself, more hurt from being denied a chance for  trust. Emrys didn't want to see Arthur's face change, didn't want to see their friendship change, didn't want to place Arthur into the impossible position of having to chose between a friend - really only a servant - and his own father.

  
But Emrys also didn't want to see Will dying over and over again every day.

  
So he took his pack with his special possessions, his provisions and kit for combat - just in case the spell pulled him back literally to the very day - and Emrys snuck out to the empty glade where he had once commanded a dragon.

And, clutching his father's carving for courage, Emrys cast the spell.


	9. Camelot Refugees

At first there was little more than stillness and the usual sound of night-time insects and animals in the glade. But then there was a noise rushing up to Emrys like an oncoming wind. It filled his ears with a great whoosh, and echoed in his mind like the roar of a dragon or maybe a lion yawning. The trees and grasses around him were still, but Emrys' clothes tore about wildly as if in an unseen gale. For a brief panicked moment, Emrys knew the warring feelings of elation and terror that he had obviously cast the spell successfully. Then a great mist rolled across the glade, and Emrys could see and feel nothing but white cloud all around him. In his stomach, there came a great tugging feeling - as if a hook had caught him by the gut and was pulling him along - yet his feet felt as if he remained standing on firm ground the whole time.

  
It might have lasted years or only a few minutes, eventually the pulling lessened and the mist began to dissipate. Emrys blinked his eyes as he strained to see around him - it seemed like he was standing on a hardened path of some sort. As the rushing wind in his ears began to fade, Emrys heard the sounds of others nearby.

"Hello?" he called. "Who's there?"

"Who goes there?!" a voice demanded.

"Emrys?" another voice called, "Em is that you?" And the mist parted around the shape of Lady Morgana, clutching a robe over her night shift, her other hand outstretched as if to feel her way through the mist.

"Lady Morgana," Emrys exclaimed and moved to her side protectively.

"Emrys," she grasped his arm, "what's happening?"

  
"Emrys?!" the demanding voice yelled sternly, "what _have_ you done, now?" 

Arthur came striding out of the mist, still dressed in his tunic and trousers from the previous day - clearly he had been awake late into the night. From the scowl on his face, Emrys was passingly glad he didn't already have a sword drawn.

"Prince Arthur -" Emrys stammered appealingly, "I can explain."

"Oho, this will be good." Arthur cocked a hip and crossed his arms. When Emrys opened and closed his mouth a few times, Arthur huffed a bit and said in a sing-song voice: "I'm _wait_ ing Emrys."

  
"Emrys?" a nearby feminine voice asked. "Emrys? And Prince Arthur? Is that you?"

The mist was still clearing out, and they turned a bit to their left to see Gwen tucked protectively under Lancelot's arm.

"Gwen! Lance!" Emrys grinned openly, rushing forward to grasp Lancelot's free hand. Gwen, meanwhile, moved quickly to Morgana.

  
"My lady," she began, "are you alright?"

"I am well, Gwen." Morgana soothed, gathering herself together. "But I would like to know what is going on."

Gwen wrung her hands and peered at Emrys perhaps a bit too obviously. "I don't know anything," she stated, "I was putting out the candles to sleep and then I heard a wind -"

" - but no wind was blowing," Morgana agreed. "And the mist rolled in and I was pulled here. Wherever _here_ is."

"And you, Lancelot?" Arthur asked.

"The same," the young knight answered swiftly. "I found Gwen in the mist, and then we heard your voice speaking to Em."

  
Out of nowhere, a voice spoke, "And as far as I can tell, it's only us six standing about - although I think there is someone approaching along this road."

As one, they spun toward the voice as the mist finally lifted enough to see a wider area. Gwaine was near the edge of the road and a bit of grass, crouching with his back to a stout stone wall; he stood and casually replaced the knife he had been holding at the ready.

"Gwaine!" Emrys cheered, and nearly flew at the roguish man for an overenthusiastic tangle of limbs that might charitably be described as a coltish hug. During their distraction, Arthur signaled to Lance to turn about and take a measure of their surroundings.

  
The mist was receding earnestly now in the light of a rosy dawn. Their group was standing at the edge of a wide road, paved with a strange, unbroken flow of extremely smooth stone - the like of which Arthur had never seen before. Before them, behind Gwaine and his stone wall, a path of similar material led to a lavish country manor house. Arthur gaped at the building for a moment - he had never seen a manor so richly appointed and also so brashly constructed - surely nobody had ever used such large panels of glass for windows on the _ground floor_ before. It would make the manor utterly indefensible in an attack!

The road they stood upon stretched away from them in both directions, the view was partially obstructed by lightly forested and hilly terrain. To the right, there were rocky outcroppings, more trees, and the road disappearing up around a bend. Arthur thought he could hear the sound of water fowl moving about in the morning. To the left, the road curved gracefully down a slight hill and out of sight. Above the trees, Arthur spotted a tower from an absolutely sprawling, equally lavish keep nearby. And Gwaine was correct, there was a figure approaching them along the road from that direction.

 "Ho, there!" the figure called - a woman, oddly dressed and carrying a basket. 

The woman was a strange sight to behold, despite a cheery face and warm smile as she approached. For one thing, her hair was a deep shade of purple; and, except for two buns at the top of her head, her hair was left loose down her back despite her womanly age. Her arms were bare and the shapely dress she wore ended abruptly a full hand's width above her knees. The men were spared some embarrassment, however, for at least her legs were partially covered by what must have been a black pair of braies that reached her calves. Her slippers were dainty and included a single embellishing strap about her ankle. Overall the garments were well-made and the fabrics sturdy, if her apparel hadn't been so obscene,  Arthur could have easily concluded that she was the mistress of one of the nearby lavish manors.

"I hope I have arrived in a timely manner," she said brightly as she stopped a comfortable distance away from their group. "Late enough that you've overcome your initial panic and confusion - but soon enough that you haven't yet decided to go on the attack?"

"Lady, you have us at a disadvantage," Arthur spoke courteously while angling a bit to put Gwen and Morgana behind him. Morgana caught his movement and graced him with an expressive roll of her eyes. "It seems you expected our arrival, and unfortunately, we had not been planning to travel at all."

"Quite so," the woman agreed unhelpfully. "But please, be at ease. I am here to welcome you and see you settled." And she hefted the basket a bit - "see? I brought you a fruit basket."

The basket, now that they could see it clearly, was overflowing with a rich variety of fruit and what might have been cheeses and a loaf of bread. There was a generous swath of silky fabric tied as a bow about the top of the basket's handle.

"My name is Amata," she offered with another warm smile. "I am, um, the welcome wagon, you might say."

"This," she gestured to the forested terrain down the road to the right, "is the edge of the Wood Between the Worlds. The town -" she gestured to the left and vaguely beyond the manor house, "is called Windenburg. And beyond that is the Silver Sea. Across the sea is the Wood again, and more little hamlets and towns just like this one."

"I am unfamiliar with these places," Arthur admitted quietly to the knights on either side of him. "Gwaine? Lance?"

But both knights responded with half shrugs and quick shakes of the head. Amata had obviously overheard Arthur's comment because she offered an answer.

"I'm not surprised - there are very few maps that depict these places. It would be unlikely that you'd have come across any of them in Camelot. And I'm afraid I must forestall your next request -" she held up a placating hand as Arthur opened his mouth to speak, "- I could easily guide you to the boundaries of your realm, but I would advise you not to cross them."

"Is that a threat?" Arthur growled, taking a step forward. 

"Oh for heaven's sake," Lady Morgana broke in as she threw her hands up in exasperation and shouldered past Arthur. "I'm still standing about on a road in my night shift, and if this conversation is going to continue, I would very much like to look presentable." She turned to Amata with the sort of gracious curtsey given between two noblewomen, "good Lady - is there anywhere near-by that we could retire to?"

  
Amata greets the Camelot Refugees

  
Amata smiled warmly and gave the basket of fruit a heft. With her unencumbered arm she made a small flipping gesture and turned her hand sharply palm-side-up, as if tossing some smallish object lightly into the air. When her hand turned back down again, she had "caught" and was now holding a brass ring from which six keys dangled and jingled against each other.

"This house here, if you please," she nodded her head toward the manor's impressive door. "These are your keys. This is your house now. It's called _Caerleon Cottage_ , and what familiar bits and belongings that could be salvaged for you are already inside and unpacked."

Amata turned then, and gestured for Lady Morgana to follow her into the manor house.

  
"I prepared this room for you, Lady," she led Morgana to a richly appointed bedchamber. "You're to be sharing a bathroom with Lancelot and Gwen - but I thought since Gwen was once your lady's maid, perhaps you wouldn't mind too badly," Amata's voice was apologetic, but with the underlying finality of things already being set that way regardless of any further input. And then she opened a door into a small room that was, without a doubt, the cleanest and most luxurious garderobe Arthur had ever seen.

"Is that… um, is that a, um, chamber pot?" Arthur distantly heard Emrys squeak. "It looks rather, um, heavy. How are we to, um, empty it?"

"Oh! That's right - plumbing!" Amata exclaimed, "Albion didn't have plumbing yet. Right, so -" and then she showed six pairs of astonished eyes how to twist the various taps to summon water that pumped itself. And with a push of a metal lever, the fancy chamber pot washed itself. When Gwen bravely twiddled the knobs nearest the tub, she gave a startled _eep_! and clutched her fingers back from the flowing water.

"Careful!" Amata cautioned, "turn it too far to that side, and the water will be too hot."

_Too hot_? Arthur mouthed to Lancelot, disbelieving that bathing water could ever be too hot. But the way Gwen nursed her fingers in her mouth claimed otherwise. Gwaine looked as though he was already mentally preparing to fight them all to the death for first go at the room. Following that, Amata led them quickly through the house on a small impromptu tour - pointing them towards bedchambers and explaining the features of the kitchen.

"I thought it would suit everyone if Emrys kipped with Gwaine above your taproom," Amata explained as she eventually led them away out a back door into a small, cobblestoned courtyard. She gestured them toward what could have been a guardhouse, if it had stood in front of the house at the road rather than behind.

Opening the door, she allowed them to tumble into the room, and said, "this is the taproom -" but she was interrupted by Gwaine who burst out suddenly, "by the gods, the _sign_!"

"Gwaine, what are you-" Arthur began, as he turned from inspecting a dartboard. But he was left gaping as Gwaine pointed with one arm, his jaw hanging open. 

"You kept it?!" Gwaine turned to Emrys, seeking an explanation, "You _kept it_? I was sure that you'd feel guilty and take it back once I left town!"

Emrys, face pale and shaking, stammered back, "I _did_ keep it - it, it was under my bed…. I don't know how the sign could be _here._ "

  
"I held my tongue when it made sense to get the ladies out of the open road," Arthur broke in commandingly, "and to find something appropriate for Morgana to wear… but this -" he gestured expressively with an arm, "- this is…"

Arthur rounded on Amata, demanding an explanation, "those dresses in the wardrobe - those weren't just a lady's dresses, those were _Morgana's_ dresses. And - and - in my chambers, the clothes, and the- the weapons - now this sign. That's the sign from _The Rising Sun_ tavern, I'd know it anywhere! It hung over the tavern's door for all the years of my life until it was stolen mysteriously _by drunken miscreants_ " - and there Arthur paused to scowl darkly at Gwaine and Emrys, before continuing - "When we were on the road - you said this is _our house_ now, and you said - you said - our things, these belongings, had been _salvaged_."

There was an anxious silence following Arthur's remarks, as they all knew his words were true, but nobody seemed to know what to say about it. 

"We've been brought by magic to a _foreign land_ ," Arthur stated with a forced calm, "and _you_ make it sound as if we're to… to… settle down and _live_ here!"

Amata blinked once and cleared her throat nervously.

"Well," she said slowly, "you are."

  
Oops? 

 


	10. Trouble with Draconic

"Okay," Amata cleared her throat again, "so. Um. Yes, it was a magic spell that brought you here. And yes, it would be best if all of you make lives for yourselves here. _Technically_ there's nothing to stop you from turning around and going back to Albion… but _please_ hear me out first…" Amata twisted her hands together nervously as she rambled. "I- I, um…. I don't know where to start."

"Tell us about the magic spell," Arthur stated in a clipped voice. "Did you cast it?"

Amata paused and pursed her lips slightly. She kept her gaze steadily on Arthur's imposing form, but there was a weight in the air as if she were expecting something to happen. For a prolonged moment, there was silence and then a flicker of sadness crossed the woman's face - and she opened her mouth to speak, 

"No, she didn't," a voice interrupted. They all turned, incredulous, to the speaker. Emrys was visibly shaking, his face pale and his voice hoarse. "I did."

At first Emrys' pronouncement was met with a heavy silence, during which Emrys turned slightly green and his eyes darted around the room wildly. And then several things seemed to happen at once. Lady Morgana swept across the room and positioned herself behind Emrys so that, over his quaking shoulder, she could pin Arthur with a defiant glare. Lancelot froze where he stood, tensely shifting his gaze back and forth between Arthur and Emrys; beside Lance, Gwen gasped out loud, wringing her hands and clearly holding back her impulse to go comfort her terrified best friend. Gwaine leaned back against a wall, crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow at the frozen tableau.

"I did." Emrys repeated in a trembling whisper. "I cast the spell that pulled us here."

Arthur shifted his weight slightly and crossed his arms, sighing loudly, "Why am I not surprised? Of _course_ you did. I'm not even sure I want to know what you were actually trying to do this time. This really tops it all. You are - without a doubt - the absolute _worst_ servant I have ever have!" Arthur paused dramatically to take a breath and on the other side of the room, Emrys stared at the Crown Prince, slack-jawed. "Morgana, catch him before he faints - Emrys, you giant girl! Now close your mouth, you look like a fish, and explain to us what, _exactly,_ this spell has done."

Following Arthur's prompting, Morgana guided Emrys by his arm to sit on the couch in the middle of the room. When the stunned servant worked his jaw, attempting to find words, Lancelot cleared his throat and tentatively addressed Arthur.

"Arthur," he hesitated only slightly, "you… knew? About Emrys?"

"Well it's not like he does anything _to hide the highly illegal_ activities!" Arthur burst out. "I might have not noticed the unlikely circumstances around Lady Helen's attack, on account of having been nearly killed - but immediately afterwards, he's uncovering sorcerous plots left and right. And let's not forget - oh, yes - that utterly _idiotic_ moment when the dollop-head barged into Uther's council meeting and loudly _announced his magic to everyone present_."

"But - but," Emrys gasped, "but you didn't believe me! You said I was driven crazy by my love for Gwen!" 

"Right," Arthur nodded smugly, "because Uther handled it _so well_ when I took up for your word against Valiant only a few weeks before. _Ob_ -viously, you needed protection from yourself - and it was only my _brilliant subterfuge_ that got you out of that room alive. You should be thanking me for all the times I've saved your ungrateful hide."

"Thanking.…thanking _you_?!" Emrys spluttered incredulously. "What about _thanking me_ for the countless times _I've saved you_ \- not to mention all of Camelot!"

"Rii-ii-ght." Arthur rolled his eyes, "and tell me, _Em-_ rys, since the secret of your magic is a matter of life-or-death… exactly how many people standing in this room _obviously_ already knew about it?"

"Urm," Emrys gulped, and his eyes darted cagily around the room.

"Let's see then," Arthur supplied, "Lancelot…?"

"Enchanted my lance with magic to kill the gryphon," Lancelot confessed after giving Emrys an apologetic look.

"And Morgana…?" Arthur continued.

"Burst into my chambers with the Druid boy while being chased by half the castle guard," Morgana admitted.

"And Gwen?" Arthur wasn't even trying to hide his glee at the servant's discomfort.

"You are _such_ a prat," Emrys muttered while burying his head in his hands.

"I overheard Emrys talking with Lady Morgana," Gwen said before hurriedly patting Emrys on the shoulder.

"Right, and the first time I met you both," Gwaine volunteered, "you were throwing plates _with your mind_ , mate. But, Arthur, honestly I just assumed that was how you two had agreed to be. That it was an open secret that Arthur pretended not to see, and everyone was fine with the Crown Prince and his sorcerer so long as it was never brought before the King."

At that, Arthur deflated a little bit, and Emrys peered up at the Crown Prince through his hair.

"Yes, it was like that, wasn't it," Arthur sat down on a nearby chair. "Just like how I was trying to hurry him along through training to be a knight, if only the clotpole wasn't such a stubborn ass."

"Just like how you - you, _what_?" Emrys blinked owlishly at Arthur.

"Yeah, mate, he was -" Gwaine shrugged, "- didn't you notice that none of the other manservants or lady's maids did the sort of extra chores that Arthur assigned you? Cleaning armor? Working with the hunting dogs and falcons? You _honestly_ never realized that those are the duties of a squire?"

"Oh." Emrys stared hard at Arthur like he had never seen him before.  "Oh. Um. No, I - I guess I never -"

"You never thought about it, right?" Arthur sighed heavily and for a moment just silently returned Emrys' gaze. Finally he stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles. "Right then. _Em_ -rys. Tell us about this spell, and I will figure out some way to save us all from your idiocy _again._ "

Despite feeling a bit unsure about where he stood with Arthur, Emrys rolled his eyes. He shuffled over to the table Arthur sat at and pulled the scroll out of his satchel. Spreading the ancient parchment out on the table, Emrys haltingly explained about Will and about his guilt for not telling Arthur and about his remorse for failing to protect them all better. Emrys pointed to a line of text and spoke about going back for a second chance to put it all right, so that nobody would have to die.

"Are you _certain_ that you did this spell correctly?" Arthur asked, peering at the incomprehensible text. He glanced up at Morgana - "Morgana, can you read this, too?"

Lady Morgana hid her small startle of surprise at Arthur's perceptive leap of logic by leaning forward over the table and tracing the spell with her fingers.

"I - I can, but… It's very hard to understand what I'm reading…" she studied the parchment intently; "I'm not sure how to explain it, Arthur. Powerful spells like this one… they - they move across the page like spoken words move through the air. In any event, spells don't work half-way. If Emrys cast this spell and produced any result, then he cast the spell correctly."

"But I don't understand," Emrys moaned, "we didn't go back to Ealdor. And I've never heard of a place like Windenburg."

"May I take a look?" Amata asked - and more than one person jumped at the reminder of the stranger who had been standing quietly among them. Arthur glanced at Emrys who shrugged in return. At Arthur's small nod of assent, Emrys and Morgana both backed away from the table and gestured for the woman to join them. She bent briefly over the parchment, her eyes darting back and forth quickly while silently mouthing the words as she read.

"Ahh, um," she finally murmured as she straightened up. "My Draconic is really rusty guys, but I think this is a _lost in translation_ issue."

"Draconic?" Arthur asked at the same time that Emrys sighed, "So it _is_ written in dragon."

Arthur glared at Emrys, who shrugged and said defensively, "They're _very_ magical."

"Right, so, um, dragons -" Amata began, moving her finger absently over the words of the spell, "dragons are notorious for speaking in metaphors and allegory. You can hardly ever get one to speak plainly."

"More like _never ever_ ," Emrys muttered. Amata shot him a commiserating grin.

"So here, for example," Amata pointed to a string of golden glittering letters, "these words _literally_ say 'second chance' - like an opportunity to try something again - but it more likely _means_ 'a second life.' You can tell by the parallel construction of imagery here," she briefly shifted her finger to a line of text above the word before moving it down to point out another line, "and here, too. Plus, look at this - the word you describe as _pull_ \- linguistically, the author is using the verb that shares a root with the Draconic verb _to birth_ , like 'a midwife helps to birth a baby.' Fascinating!" Amata looked up at the room and absently pushed her spectacles up on her nose. "What did the spell feel like? Did it really _pull_ at you, maybe like you were being pulled from a birth canal - or even hatching from an egg?"

Arthur's face had taken on faint spots of red high on his cheeks, and Emrys was simply staring slack-jawed and dumbfounded. It was Gwen who cleared her throat and offered, "it felt like a _pulling_ sensation to me; like I was being drawn forward from right here -" and she gestured to her lower torso, right around her waist. Amata's eyes lit up at her gesture.

"The navel! Yes, wonderful! The umbilicus, see? And there you have it." Her fingers spread out across the page, as if caressing the spell itself.

"There we have it?" Emrys echoed.

"The Wood between the Words functions like an umbilical cord for all worlds, everywhere. That's where you get the imagery of the axis mundi, you know - the _Tree of Life_ \- so you were always going to be pulled from your old lives in Camelot into your new lives in one of the towns or villages here. Symmetry like that helps even those with lesser magic pull off such a strong spell." The woman added the last bit in the sort of conspiratorial voice that friends might share while discussing which merchant had the best price for eggs.

"Strong spell?" Arthur repeated.

"Oh yes," Amata enthused. "All Draconic spells are, of course."

"But if we're here," Emrys said desperately, "what about Will? Is he even alive?"

"Your Will is most definitely alive," Amata said resolutely. "A life for a life and all that. This is an amazing spell, Emrys; it is very rare to find a spell specifically for bringing back the dead that _doesn't_ rely on warped or twisted magic. Usually resurrection spells are either necromancy or blood magic to steal life back from a natural end."

At the woman's words, Emrys sank to the floor, a stunned look on his face. Looking slightly puzzled at the silence and somber faces gathered around the little table, Amata tilted her head to the side and studied the trembling warlock.

"I'm…" she cleared her throat awkwardly and tried to soften her enthusiastic tone of voice, "I'm sorry, I… I get a little over-excited about spell-work and magical theory."

"There's nothing _theoretical_ about six people who have _lost their lives_!" Lady Morgana stated shrilly while trapping Amata with a venomous glare.

Unfortunately Amata attempted to defend herself by exclaiming, "But you haven't _lost_ your lives - with this spell, those lives never even existed in the first place!"

" _What_?!" Arthur yelled, jumping to his feet. Amata winced and held up her hands defensively.

"I'm sorry! That came out sounding really bad," she said pleadingly. "I mean that magic this strong, it smoothes the way backward, you see?"

"No, sorry -" Gwaine broke in, "I really _don't_ see. I never even met Emrys' friend Will, and - no offense Emrys - I sorta have a rule about meeting a man first before I just give up my existence to save his hide."

"I never met him, either," Lancelot stated as he wrapped his arms around Gwen consolingly.

"What I'm trying to say is that spells this powerful will always produce an equally powerful result," Amata said hotly, beginning to get a little red in the face. "Like 'rewrite-history' powerful. There must have been a prophecy or a great war or some destiny - you lot absolutely _reek_ of fate magic. And Emrys and Arthur practically _shine._ I've seen some humdingers in my work, but you two and your friends are quite the doozy. You didn't just save Will - you saved _everyone_."

Silence and wide-eyed stares met her pronouncement, and Amata couldn't help but cross her arms and give a little frustrated stomp of her foot.

"The _spell_ ," she thumped the parchment with her left hand. "You go to your second life _free from encumbrances_." She thumped again for good measure. "Some big war or mysterious prophecy? A star-crossed destiny? A lover's triangle that causes a whole kingdom to topple? Anything? None of you can think of anything that would need to reach conclusion so that you can travel here _unencumbered_?"

"… well," Arthur began slowly. "I am a Crown Prince…"

"Gwen and I have a secret marriage," Lancelot admitted honorably.

"There _was_ a Great Purge on magic," Morgana pointed out, "but it was more than 20 years ago!"

"Still, the Druids are always going on about how the Purge has knocked all magic in Albion out of balance," Gwaine added. "Can't see how that helps, though."

"There _was_ a prophecy." Emrys groaned dramatically from his dejected huddle on the floor.

Arthur blinked at his manservant in disbelief. The young man slouched against the back of the couch, his arms dangling helplessly across his drawn up knees and his tousled head thrown back in a look that screamed "exhausted surrender."

"The Druids," he admitted to nobody in particular, "they have an ancient prophecy about the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth. A sorcerer born of magic, that will be _The Merlin_ for all ages. And this Merlin is going to serve the Once And Future King. And together, they will unite Albion and restore magic to all the lands."

"Why do I get the feeling that I am not going to like what this cabbage-head says next?" Arthur crossed his arms and glared comically at Emrys. The beleaguered man let out a put-upon sigh.

"The prophecy is about me. And Arthur." he said with a simple shrug. "We're them. The Merlin and the Once and Future King."

There was a moment of silence as the occupants of the room tried to comprehend the information. And then Amata rolled up the ancient parchment with an satisfied, "Well, that'll do it!"

"Excuse me, Lady," Gwaine put an arm out as if to block a door. "But that will do _what,_ exactly?"

"A prophecy like that would be too big to simply unravel, so it must have been fulfilled instead," Amata said reasonably. "You -" she pointed at Emrys, "were born of magic, right?" He nodded mutely. Amata turned to her side and pointed at Arthur, "and he came to serve you, the Once And Future King, right?"

Arthur nodded, but added, "Even though he really was the _worst_ at being a servant."

Amata smiled distractedly and held up the scroll, "And together, you went gadding about until some fight at Ealdor where some person named Will ended up dead. So Emrys uses this spell. Magic speaks to magic; like calls to like." She nodded decisively, "for the terms for _this spell_ to be met, the prophecy needed to be fulfilled first. So magic just…" she shrugged casually, "- just used the results of _this_ spell to be the criteria that completed the prophecy so that _this_ spell's conditions were met and therefore produced results."

"I'm still not sure I understand," Lancelot admitted. "It sounds like the thing that came second caused the thing that came before it."

"That's not even possible," Arthur accused.

"That's _magic_ ," Amata replied, but she quailed under Arthur's dark look and tugged on a handful of her hair. "Okay," she said, "let's work backwards… why was Will's life in danger?"

"Because I didn't use my magic to save him," Emrys said miserably.

Amata restrained a restless jerk of her hand and said probingly, "Big spell, remember? Big spell, big magic, big prophecy - you were part of something _bigger_. Think big picture… Why were _you_ responsible for protecting Will and protecting Ealdor?"

Emrys looked confused but Arthur's instincts as a Crown Prince kicked in - "We were there because King Uther refused to send guardsmen when Hunith came to petition for aid."

Amata nodded and said, "Okay, yes - that's the kind of bigger picture we should poke. So. Why would King Uther refuse a petition for aid?"

"Because Ealdor is technically in Escetir under King Cenred," Lancelot pointed out. At the same time, Morgana also answered, "because Uther didn't want to spark a war with Cenred."

Amata took in both statements and tilted her head, "Your king does not have an amicable relationship with his neighboring kingdom? No peace treaties? No mutual aid along borders and trade routes?"

Arthur shook his head while Morgana angrily blurted out, "Uther doesn't really have _amicable relationships_ with _anyone_."

"There _was_ a peace treaty," Arthur explained, "but Cenred chafed under the terms and constantly sought justification to renew bloodshed between our kingdoms. My father knew that sending any men across the border would be viewed by Cenred as an act of war."

"Was this Cenred an unreasonable man? Was he war-like and aggressive in general?" Amata questioned. Arthur started to answer, but stopped suddenly with a pensive look. A hesitant air hung over the room and eventually Gwaine coughed apologetically.

"Actually, no," Gwaine said. "Escetir had its occasional bandits and ruffians like any other kingdom - but was otherwise prosperous and strong."

"What?" Arthur exclaimed. "Escetir was constantly attacking Camelot because they envied our prosperity and resources. Cenred could never win because his military was so weak and poorly outfitted!" Gwaine and Lancelot exchanged an uncomfortable look while Arthur stammered haltingly, "Right? … Lance? Right?"

"Although it pains me to admit it -" Lancelot grimaced, "Gwaine is correct. Escetir guarded the western border to Camelot solely for defensive reasons - only truly drawn into combat when provoked. The reason the western guard are poorly supplied is because Escetir provides for the bulk of the war efforts on the eastern border, against the Saxons."

"Yeah," Gwaine added, "and Cenred deals honorably with mercenary companies and sell-swords who aid that effort... I would know," he added with a disarming shrug.

"Escetir has bountiful lands of her own," Lance continued. "Cenred has well-established treaties and trade routes with both Mercia to the north and Nemeth's southern corridor to the port cities."

"But," Arthur said quietly, "Cenred had barely a civil word to spare whenever he came to treat with Camelot. I took it as a mark of the man's poor character and unruly nature."

"You can hardly judge a man's character negatively when he manages to keep a civil tongue all the while fighting for the lives of his people," Lance stated.

"Uther took the Ridge of Ascetir from Cenred under their treaty." Gwaine explained. "That area alone held most of Cenred's best mines. He must fiercely protect his remaining western mountains - or else he'll not have enough metal for the smiths to keep the eastern front supplied."

"I never knew…" Arthur stated honestly, staring at his clenched fists.

"What I'm interested in," Amata interrupted gently, "is working further backwards. It seems that Ealdor was a small village unfortunately caught between the border wars threatening all of Escetir. So why was Uther ever at war with Cenred in the first place? It had to have been Uther that attacked Cenred first - no king would fight wars on two different fronts if he had any other option." Again, the woman's words were met with a heavy silence.

"Cenred publicly rebuked Uther for his actions during the Great Purge," Morgana finally said angrily. She flipped her hair over her shoulder with a defiant toss of her head. "I read about it in the records when Geoffrey thought I was studying court etiquette."

"And he made it widely known that Escetir would welcome refugees with magic who fled across the border to escape Uther's laws against magic," Emrys added in a tight voice.

"Alright," Amata tapped her lips with her finger and tipped her head with a thoughtful expression. "The Great Purge - I assume it is exactly as bad as it sounds, right? And laws against magic. Huh. No good came of that, I'm guessing. Refugees fleeing their own homeland means a civil war - even if it is not outright fought with weapons, rebels, and treason."

"Yes," Gwen's tremulous voice surprised the room. She cleared her throat once before squaring her shoulders. "Yes. That's what it was like, growing up in Camelot. Arthur and Morgana might not really know, being nobility, and nobody else here is actually _from_ Camelot. But I am. I was born and raised in Old Town, right there on the poor edge of Caerleon. People were always afraid. The guardsmen, my parents, the adults at market, everyone. Not scared of _magic_ , really - but scared of the consequences. Every street had a nosy neighbor that everyone dreaded - the snitch who might turn you in to the guard for naught but a warm loaf of bread. Some times whole families would be taken - _whole families_ \- overnight. It was hard to make playmates, because you never knew who would be around tomorrow - and who would be burned at the citadel square. _Children_." The color was rising in Gwen's cheeks, and she took a deep breath after her exclamation. She turned resolutely toward Arthur and said, "The children of Old Town, Arthur… our nightmares weren't about sorcerers. They were about the witchfinders and the knights in red cloaks."

Arthur recoiled visibly, and Morgana turned away from the room briefly - a hand flying to her mouth as if about to be sick.

"Arthur," Amata diverted as Lancelot wrapped an arm around Gwen's waist. "work backwards. Why did Uther outlaw magic? What started the Great Purge?"

"My mother died in childbirth, and my father blamed magic," Arthur replied brokenly.

"So - in the bigger picture - _if you were never born_ …?" Amata suggested slowly.

"Ygraine never dies and Uther… …" Arthur said, unable to meet anyone's eyes. 

"Uther never purges magic from Camelot?" Morgana supplied a little breathlessly. "All those innocent lives…"

"And no silent civil war, either," Gwen gasped. 

"What would Camelot be like with magic in it?" Amata asked.

"… Beautiful," Emrys whispered hoarsely from the floor.

"Strong," Gwaine agreed.

"Shining," Lance closed his eyes at the memory of his first view of Caerleon in the sunlight.

"No reason to go to war with Escetir," Arthur said with raw honesty. "Or Mercia either, for that matter."

"No reason not to give aid to Ealdor," Merlin whispered, a small tear escaping down his cheek. "No reason for Will to die. No reason for Will's _father_ to die. No… No reason for _my_ father to… to…" but he could not bring himself to finish the sentence, and instead covered his face with his hands and dropped his head down to his knees. 

"Uther and Ygraine," Amata began softly, "would they be able to unite all the kingdoms of Albion?"

There was a stunned silence around the room as each person considered the question. 

"Honestly, I'm just guessing," she admitted eventually. "Prophecies are tricky work. Draconic spells are tricky work. Two of them, twisted up together? It's a bit much, even for me. We'd have to actually go to Albion and check exactly how everything changed without you. We could do it, if you really wanted to - but things like this tend to mess with your head. You'd see people and familiar places - old friends or family - and they wouldn't recognize you. You'd be a stranger even though it would feel like you were home."

"Just like that?" Emrys said in a dazed voice, "A whole destiny… done? That easy?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Amata looked at him sideways, "there's nothing _easy_ about a powerful Draconic resurrection spell. At very least, to even cast the spell required the _potential energy_ of six whole lives! It's not like you can just study it for a week and then simply walk out into a field and start chanting."

Emrys had the grace to look abashed as he muttered, "it was _two_ weeks."

 


	11. Welcome to Windenburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just the end of the beginning...

Lady Morgana sank down into the chair opposite Arthur at the small table while Lancelot gathered Gwen into his arms on the couch. They all sat in silence for a bit, their thoughts dizzy from the logic-defying magic spell that had interrupted their lives. Eventually, Emrys tentatively started to speak -

"Arthur, I -"  
  
"I don't really want to speak to you right now, Emrys," came the clipped interruption. "I don't think I want to see you or hear your voice any time soon."

Emrys made a miserable, strangled sound and dropped his head down on his arms. Everyone shifted uncomfortably after that, as it was painfully apparent that the young man was fighting to hold back tears. Arthur stared determinedly at the wood grain of the table in front of him.

"I don't think I mind saving lives, or undoing some of the harm that my fath -" his voice caught a little and he cleared his throat, "that Uther did. To the Druids. And, um, to magic. But…" he let out a sudden _woosh_ of breath, "but it was my entire life. It was the only thing I've ever known. I- I forgive you, but I- I. I deserve a little bit of time to think about all this."

From his huddle on the floor, Emrys nodded his head wretchedly - but Arthur wasn't looking at him; Arthur had pinned Amata with a cool, determined gaze.

"You." Arthur said in his most royal voice, "Is there a chance that your interpretation of that spell could be wrong?"

She hesitated before answering slowly, "Not any worth chasing, sire."

"So you would suggest that we occupy this manor and attempt to build new lives for ourselves here, in this provincial town - this, um, what did you call this place again?"

"Yes," Amata said, looking earnest, "yes, I would suggest - it's Windenburg, your majesty."

"Windenburg." Arthur said as if making a proclamation. "And what's with the _majesty_ , you weren't so formal when explaining that we'd all lost our lives as we knew them."  
  
"I'm so -" the young woman had to catch her breath, as her eyes watered, "I'm so _very_ sorry. I forget myself - I do that when I'm studying spells and books. And I truly didn't mean to be so -"

Arthur waved her off when it became obvious that she would likely continue to apologize without stop for as long as they let her ramble.

"Are all the people in Windenburg so…" Arthur paused to make a gesture that seemed to encompass all of Amata from head to toe, "… so, um, keen on magic?"

"Oh, well," Amata tugged self-consciously on a handful of her hair, "no, not all. It's a part of my job - I'm the Keeper of the Keys for this area, and so I have to be, um, well-versed in all sorts of magic and languages. So I can keep track of travelers coming and going. And prepare for any who are, um, going to be staying here. In Windenburg."

"And if Windenburg is not part of Albion, what land _is_ it a part of?" Arthur questioned.

"I already told you, really," Amata said, "There's the Wood and the Sea and little towns like Windenburg, and their Keepers like me."

"Are you being deliberately obtuse?" Arthur finally demanded. "Tell us more about our new land, sorceress!"

Although Amata looked cowed at Arthur's forceful tone, she spread her hands out wide and said ruefully, "Windenburg is part of the in-between place. I don't think that Albion had any notion of it - at least, not yet - so, um, just try to keep an open mind while I explain a bit... 

Imagine everything you know, your kingdom and the whole of Albion. Plus the lands beyond Albion. Every single thing from where you come from. Imagine that all of that is just one room in a very, very, _very_ big house. And - this might sound strange - but there are other _worlds_ , with lands and kingdoms and towns and people - and those other worlds are all the _other_ rooms of the very big house.

Over the whole of the house there is a roof, of course. That roof is, um," and here Amata paused and glanced to the side nervously, as if trying to decide whether to say what she was originally going to say. "The roof over the house is Heaven."

She coughed softly and a faint flush formed on her cheeks.

"Or the Summerlands, if you prefer Albion's Old Religion," she said with a bit of a shrug, as if she hadn't just spoken heretical nonsense. "The thing is - it's the roof of _the whole house_ \- so every room has a part of the roof that is part of _that_ room. Anyone from any room has a bit of roof that they could look at and recognize as _theirs._ Isn't that just _lovely_?" Amata's voice was drifting off somewhere between breathless adoration and sincere pleading.

Gwaine shuffled a bit where he was leaning against a wall. "Look Lady - I'm not really keen on debating about religion with anyone, I'm partial to the Old Ways myself, but -" and he cleared his throat a little, "- I thought the spell said _second life_ , but you're making me think that actually we're all dead…"

"Oh!" Amata laughed out loud, "Oh, no! You're not on the roof. We're in the _hallways_. Worlds are rooms with walls around them - but there are little ways to get from one room to another, right? That's the corridors and hallways, and the back stairways that the servants take, and all that.

Some worlds have a sense of the hallways. They come up for names for this space, like _the Wood between the Worlds_ or _the Neitherlands_. But your world - with Albion in it - you only had your world and your heaven. You don't have a name for the hallways. So I thought I'd better explain the big picture with the roof and all, just a bit at least."  
  
"This," Emrys said with a strained voice, "is making my head hurt."

"Take your time," Amata chirped pleasantly.

"Wonderful," Gwaine drawled from against the wall, "now I'm heaven's vagrant." He paused considering and then laughed freely, "Actually, that is probably a step up for me."

Arthur crossed his arms and grimaced. "The _corridors.._. Morgana, will you please tell Emrys that he will be cleaning armor for a _very_ long time. I woke up this morning a Crown Prince, and now I am a vagrant nobody"  
  
From his miserable huddle against the back of the couch, Emrys groaned and buried his head in his arms again.

"Actually, sire -" Amata offered hesitantly, "- that's not _exactly_ true. If you left Windenburg and went to live in some other world, you would be a nobody to them… but here in-between, you are _technically_ 'Crown Prince Arthur of Camelot, expatriate.' And your men would be - for example - 'Sir Gwaine, Knight-errant of Camelot.'"

Arthur blinked at the woman. "I'm not entirely certain that a mere adjustment of title adequately makes up for having been royalty," he said slowly.

"I guess it all depends on what sort of definition you have of _royalty_ ," Amata said stoutly. "Were you the prince because you lived in a fancy castle, bossed around servants, and ordered men to their deaths in your name? Or was there something else? Were you the prince because you are _princely_ in manner, nature, or character? Magic has only separated you from the former. Also, you will find that you are not the only nobles around this town."

At that, a thoughtful look passed over Arthur's face and after a brief pause, he gave a short nod.

"Arthur…" Gwen spoke up softly, "what… what happens now?"

"Now," Arthur said with a decided air, "now we… take jobs, I suppose. Take jobs, earn our keep, meet our neighbors, explore our new… home."

"At least we're all here together," Lancelot pressed a soft kiss to Gwen's temple and smoothed back her hair.

"So that's it then?" Gwaine pushed himself away from the wall and sauntered toward Emrys, still huddled against the couch. He offered the miserable man help up from the floor and clasped a hand on his shoulder. Arthur stood and rolled his shoulders back.  
  
"That's it then," he confirmed. "For now, at least. Welcome to Windenburg. Welcome to your second life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ It's time for Amata's Footnotes! YAY!! ~  
> This story is Part One of a multi-fandom series; also, I don't have a beta for this. So all mistakes are mine (sorry!). Just a quick footnote regarding the use of "Knight-Errant" to describe expatriated knights living in Windenburg.... 
> 
> _Errant_  has a split history. It comes from Anglo-French, a language in which two confusingly similar verbs with identical spellings ("errer") coexisted. 
> 
> One  _errer_  meant "to err" and comes from the Latin  _errare_ , meaning "to wander" (like, go astray) or "to err." 
> 
> The second  _errer_  meant "to travel," and traces to the Latin  _iter_ , meaning "road" or "journey." 
> 
> Both "errer" homographs contributed to the development of "errant," which not surprisingly has to do with both moving about and being mistaken. A "knight-errant" travels around in search of adventures. Cowboys round up "errant calves." An "errant child" is one who misbehaves.


End file.
